


The Alien Made Me Do It

by Meow_san



Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Crack Treated Seriously, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Falling In Love, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, IronStrange, James "Rhodey" Rhodes is a Good Bro, M/M, Mild Language, Nick Fury is Not Amused, Slow Burn, Stephen Strange is not prepared, Tony Stark Gets a Hug, Tony Stark Inhales an Alien, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony Stark is bad at feelings, Touching, Two Smartasses Falling In Love, come read this it's hysterical, is actually deeply meaningful at times
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-13
Updated: 2019-02-02
Packaged: 2019-08-01 08:49:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 29,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16281419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meow_san/pseuds/Meow_san
Summary: Most people would agree that Tony Stark is a genius. When Tony accidentally inhales an alien during a mission, Tony begins to wonder if that description still applied. Regardless, he’s getting that alien out of his brain, no matter what it takes. He’s not fond of his new internal judgmental pet that assigns a rank to everyone he meets.Stephen Strange comes seeking advice on how to defeat a tech-magic being. Instead he gains himself a follower. Literally. Tony Stark has to go where Stephen goes, because the alien thinks Stephen’s “the one”. Whatever the hell that means.This started as crack but quickly developed depth and a heart. It’s now a full-fledged fic featuring feels, angst and two smartasses falling in love.Updates every Saturday.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome!
> 
> I’m so excited for you, dear new reader, because you’re about to go on an amazing ride. I wish I could re-read this story with your eyes. Sometimes I step back, catch my breath, and wonder how the hell did I write this—but the answer is the same: because I had to. For love.
> 
> I'm not an expert in brain surgery or science/engineering so please don't take anything in this fic too seriously xD
> 
> I hope you enjoy reading The Alien Made Me Do It as much as I love writing it <3

“Avengers, move out!”

Tony landed onto one knee at the crashed alien spaceship just as Steve, Clint and Natasha hopped down from a sleek black jet next to him.

“What took you so long?” Tony grinned, straightening. He shook his legs from the long flight in his suit, all the way to Mexico. He’d done it on a whim, to see if he could still fly long-distance, and to test his suit’s newest capabilities. Yep, everything worked like a charm. “You guys ready?”

They approached the ship. It was the size of a small house, made of one long sausage shape. It laid smoking in two large parts, having broken almost exactly in the middle, one half in front of them and the other at a ninety degree angle. Piles of debris and twisted metal plates where scattered along the blackened field. The thing smashed with unbelievable force, having carved deep gorges into the ground, now laying half-buried into the earth.

Tony walked in first, arm out in case something jumped at him. His suit readings detected normal atmosphere; no poisonous gasses or substances in the area. He didn’t detect any hostiles straight away. He motioned to the others, and Steve and Natasha dropped next to him.

Tony cautiously walked further inside the still smoking alien ship. His feet hit small bits of debris but he didn’t care. He saw something glow and tensed, increasing the brightness of his repulsor beam to see better.

It was a wall.

A glowing wall of cabinets.

Tony scanned up and around him but nothing had attacked him. The ship was literally a hollow sausage shape. There was nowhere to hide.

“Well, seems the battle’s over,” Tony said, relaxing his stance into something more comfortable. He didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed. He flew all the way to Mexico. Clint and Natasha alone could’ve handled this.

But then he reminded himself that they hadn’t known if there were hostile creatures onboard or not. What if they had been wrong?

The team relaxed, and Tony dissolved his face-plate as Steve, Natasha and Clint split to wander around. His suit didn’t register anything poisonous or toxic other than the carbon monoxide from the smoke, and Tony’d rather admire the alien technology with his own eyes. Tony examined the glowing wall at the end of the ship again, which looked the most intact, and saw what looked like gold ball-point pens litter the floor. This part of the ship was clearly some sort of cargo, with blue cabinets lining floor to ceiling, a single pulsing white line per cabinet acting as the hatch. One of the cabinets left a gaping black void in the wall, and laid crushed on the black floor of the spaceship, its white panel turned red, and hundreds of that looked like golden ball-point pens laying on the floor around it.

Tony picked up a pen. It was golden with dimples all over it, as if for easy grip. A single black seam ran in the middle of the object, obviously meant to open or unscrew. Tony looked back onto the floor. Whatever those were, they were sturdier than a pen, as only a couple lay broken on the floor.

Tony sniffed. Strawberries? It was such a strange smell among the burning. “Did anyone bring strawberries?” He asked the team.

Clint and Natasha looked at him blankly before Steve shook his head.

“Perfume? Anyone?”

“Just do your job,” Natasha said.

 _Boooring._ Tony looked at the pens crushed underfoot. A kind of liquid was pooling around them. He looked at the one in his hand. He pried it open. It twisted easily. The inside was hollow, and a small drop of pearly goop glistened on the rim. The smell of strawberries got stronger. Some kind of ester? Tony brought the two halves together and took a deep whiff.

Something jumped at his face. Tony yelped, dropping the pen. The thing shot up his nostril, gagging him. He swiped at his face, desperate to get the thing off, but it was too late. Pain stabbed him in the nose and behind the eyes as the thing borrowed through his skull. Tony doubled over, clutching at the blood dribbling down his face and choking as it flowed down his throat. _That…_ he thought amid the madness, _that was so dumb. I can't believe I did that!_ He screamed, the pain unbearable, and was about to tell Friday to cut his circulation but stopped because he _couldn't_ cut the blood flow to his brain and expect to come out alive.

He scrabbled at his face but it was useless. The thing, the alien, burrowed so deep he felt a blazing hot trail in his skull. He dropped to the floor, the pain pulsing with red hot lava. He saw the others rush at him when suddenly, everything went black.

Someone was shaking him. "Gah!" Tony sat up. Clint and Natasha reeled back just in time to avoid a head butt.

“Stark!” Clint said.

Tony blinked. Something seemed to be hoovering in front of Clint's face. Kind of like a fog. He focused on it, and the image disappeared.

_Huh?_ Tony thought. _I must be hallucinating._

“How long was I out?” Tony said, raising a hand to his still trickling nose.

Natasha was giving him _that_ look, a perfectly composed face hiding her distaste. But Tony didn't care about that. Her face too, was surrounded by vague grey fog. Like he couldn't truly see her.

What the bloody hell? Was it… that thing's doing?

He was too aware an alien had just crawled into his head. It was doing something to him, something to his eyes. He didn't feel any different, other than his head splitting in two where the thing had climbed in. He didn't feel the need to start killing or his limbs going under someone else's control, or any weird thought processes. He still felt like Tony Stark, albeit very stupid Tony Stark, bleeding from his nose and in pain.

“Barely a second,” Clint said, and Tony was glad for the no-nonsense tone. Clint’s eyes told him that Clint didn't know whether to call Fury or restrain him or run for the hills. The rest of Clint’s face was a stone, no emotion whatsoever. Again, Tony felt something not quite right looking at him, like something had changed but he didn't know what.

Tony couldn't name the sensation, but something, some non-physical part of his body, his intuition, was telling him no.

Clint wasn't “it”.

Not even close.

Nope.

Tony frowned. “Huh?”

He glanced to Natasha. A sudden feeling of _Hell No_ assaulted him out of nowhere, even worse than Clint's. Nada, definitely not her.

“The hell?” Tony whispered to himself.

“You okay?” Steve said.

Tony's gaze met Steve's blue one. The soldier wore a concerned frown.

_No._

Tony suddenly realised that whatever that alien was, _it_ was making him feel this intuitive no. Steve wasn't the one. Tony had to look elsewhere.

“I'm fine,” Tony said, but even to his own ears he sounded unsure. Steve offered him a hand up and Tony took it. He stood up with no problem, only the discomfort of his nose still bleeding. “I feel like myself if that's what you're wondering.”

“We should get you checked out at SHIELD,” Natasha said.

Tony froze.

“You could be a danger,” she said.

“Or in danger,” Steve put a hand on his shoulder.

“The only one examining me, is _me_.” In one quick movement, Tony elbowed Steve and engaged his thrusters. He activated his helmet, completely in his iron man suit. He flew up. “Shit!” He paused, then torpedoed down and swooped the broken cabinet of those alien pens, barely avoiding Steve's shield coming at his chest. He swerved out of Clint's incoming arrow and set for his lab.

“Tony, we don't know what it's done to you. Come back so we can find out if you're safe!” Steve said through the radio.

“No one's gonna figure out faster what that thing's done to me than _me _,” Tony said. “I told you it hasn't tried to take me over.”__

____

“Yet,” Natasha said.

____

“I'm gonna find out what it does. I'll be in my lab. Send Fury my regards.”

____

Tony activated his thrusters to full speed.

____

“Tony, this is for your own safety!” Steve said.

____

“Fri?” Tony asked.

____

The communicator cut in the middle of the other's rants.

____

 

____

***

____

 

____

Tony rose his hands as two dozen guns fixated on him.

____

"No need for the dramatics," Tony said. "I'll talk."

____

"You're coming with us to SHIELD," Fury said dispassionately, pointing his own pistol at Tony about ten meters away.

____

Tony squinted at Fury. _No._ Still the goddamn no. He glanced at the soldiers aiming at him, their faces hidden by protective masks. Nothing. No response from the thing.

____

_It needs to see the face_ , Tony thought.

____

Tony saw no point hiding when the helicopters came to his Malibu mansion. He'd managed to run a few tests and when he saw the scans… he remembered gripping the table for balance. But he didn't let himself sit and wallow in despair like he did during the palladium poisoning. If he could solve that, he could solve this new one somehow. He already had a few leads he wanted to try out. SHIELD would just get in the way.

____

"And what are you gonna do, lock me up in a cell like Loki?" Tony said. "Then we'll never find a solution to get that thing out of my brain. I need to be here, in my lab, solving my own problems. You guys aren't as good as I am."

____

Fury's gaze told him nothing, but the man lowered his gun. "What have you got?"

____

Slowly, so that Fury saw Tony didn't mean any harm, Tony pulled out a glass jar out of his pocket. In it, was a translucent prawn-looking creature, sporting many hair-like threads instead of proper legs that a normal prawn had. He opened the jar.

____

"Relax," Tony said when Fury and the soldiers took an involuntary step back. He lifted the thin, five or so centimeters bug. It was soft and pliable, as it had to be to attach to someone's brain without killing the host. "It's dead. Exposing it to the atmosphere kills it in about two minutes. But you already knew that."

____

Fury didn't say anything.

____

"Also, I tried, but those things don't like me anymore. Exposing myself to another one doesn't do a thing. It's one per host."

____

"What exactly did it do to you?" Fury asked.

____

"Me? Nothing. But it likes to rate people."

____

Fury rose and eyebrow.

____

"I'm serious," Tony said. "I see you now and it's telling me you're bad for my health. So is Clint and Steve. But Natasha… it wasn't a fan of her at all. On the other hand, Rhodey was okay. The alien likes him."

____

"Be serious, Stark." Fury said.

____

"I'm telling the truth. I did a bunch of tests but it doesn't seem to have done anything to me. No altered chemistry or brain readings - yes, I had a baseline to compare them to, and everything's _clean_. I certainly feel like myself, except for the whole "hell no", "no," and "okay" rating thing each time I see someone's face."

____

"I can't just take your word for it, Stark. Show me proof."

____

This was the part Tony didn't like. He grabbed the papers he's been holding under his arm. He carefully walked to Fury and the man took the folder from his arms.

____

Fury flipped through charts and blood results and whole bunch of other stuff, which Tony knew he passed because there were no anomalies. He got to the MRI scan and paused.

____

"What the hell is this?" 

____

Tony rolled his eyes. "What do you think it looks like? Thanksgiving dinner?"

____

"How the hell are you still alive?" Fury's one eye looked at him with amazement.

____

Tony knew it looked much worse than living with the thing. The black and white film showed the alien wedged in between his brain hemispheres, tiny hair-like prongs imbedded into his tissues like a particularly deadly umbrella. Tony had to sit down the first time he saw it, because it was _his_ brain, not some random sample. But the fact that the alien hadn't killed him so far, that it didn't inflict terrible pain that it was definitely capable of doing, Tony was convinced its purpose _wasn't_ to harm him. It didn't take him over, although it had enough threads embedded in "personality" and "reasoning" areas to do so. Whatever its goal was, harming its host wasn't it.

____

He hoped.

____

"It's purpose isn't to harm the host, or I'd be dead," Tony said. "I've already contacted the best brain surgeons in the world, what makes you think SHIELD can do better?"

____

Fury fixed him with an unimpressed look. "How did you let it possess you so easily?" he said with a note in disbelief.

____

Tony berated himself for this multiple times already. It was an alien artefact, for fuck’s sake, he should've known better than to fall for the shiny gold surface and a nice smell. "It smelled like strawberries."

____

Fury looked at him like he was stupid.

____

"What?" he said, but Fury only shook his head like he was dealing with a particularly disappointing kid.

____

"Look, I have no intentions to leave the mansion, in case you're worried that I might go homicidal," Tony said.

____

Fury walked towards him and Tony tensed. He itched to touch the ark reactor, but he really didn't want to fight SHIELD. Before he could make a decision, something clicked around his wrist.

____

"That'll make sure you won't."

____

Tony groaned at the GPS tracker on his wrist. "Happy now?"

____

"I need more information, Stark. Psychological profile, moods, anything that can indicate it's trying to control you."

____

Tony tried to hide his surprise at how easily Fury caved. He expected a bit more posturing. "You son of a—" Tony began, but that insistent _no_ the alien was sending him whenever he looked at Fury's face, stopped him. The bastard had never intended to take him back; he was here to make it seem like they did Tony a favor. Tony hid his fists behind his back so that he wouldn’t punch that "no" out of Fury's face. "Friday will send you hourly updates on my status. That should be enough in case I grow a larvae or something. Now leave me alone." He waved a hand dismissively as he walked towards the roof access. "I got an alien I gotta unstuck from my brain."

____

Fury motioned a hand, and the soldiers filed back into the helicopters. "Of all the people I expected to do stupid things, you inhaling an alien because it smelled like strawberries wasn't one of them." Fury said over his shoulder as he boarded a helicopter. "Let's see you put that brain of yours…to free your brain."

____

Tony groaned.

____


	2. Chapter 2

“It’s too delicate, the chance of permanent damage is too high,” a surgeon, Dr Grant, said from the screen.

“You said it could be sentient, it could kill you in retaliation if we expose it,” Dr Smith said.

“Come on,” Tony whispered.

“There're just too many risks. I don’t want your death to be on my hands. I’m sorry, Mr Stark,” Dr Vishu said.

One by one the doctors shut the connection.

Tony crossed off contacts twenty-one to twenty-three and punched the wall. Why were all these surgeons incompetent? “Friday, run me a scan of all the brain operations that resemble what I’d require, and give me the past success rate.”

“Sure thing, boss.”

He waited while Friday compiled her analysis. He bit his nails, trying not to look at those twenty-three ‘it’s impossible’s. He didn’t want to know what that meant.

So far, the thing really hadn’t tried to take him over. He didn’t feel its presence at all, except he _knew_ it could kill him in a breath if it wanted. The only thing it made him do was to feel that weird hell no, no or yes whenever he saw someone.

Tony didn’t have many visitors, for obvious reasons, but he let Rhodey and Pepper in. He didn’t want to, but Rhodey threatened to break down the door and Tony didn’t want to test the validity of that threat. He didn’t want them to worry but it was impossible not to, and he’d never admit it, but he was glad they still wanted to see him despite the parasite living in his brain. He’d have completely understood if they didn’t want to. But they did, and Tony couldn’t communicate how much he appreciated them at that moment.

Pepper had gotten a yes straight away, but the longer he looked, after he explained what the thing was doing to him, he realised that it wasn’t a yes or a no but a gradation, that it was actually looking for something, something that a person had ‘a lot’ such as Rhodey and Pepper, or ‘a little’ such as Steve and Clint, or ‘none’ such as Natasha. With their help, he got a bit better at reading whenever the alien tried to communicate. He took a brain scan while looking at Pepper’s face, and the result was that his right brain non-language centres were engaged. The thing was talking to him in non-logic, which was why it took him so long to realise what the system was. He didn’t know why it chose to talk that way, but once he realised what the mode of communication was, he learned to read it more easily. Now, whenever he looked at someone, he got a clear ‘feel’ for that ‘none’, ‘a little’, ‘a lot,’ and one other gradation, something the alien hadn’t given out yet. He could feel, in that non-verbal language of theirs, that there was one more rank, one more level above the ‘a lot’. The alien was searching, searching all the faces for that ‘more than a lot’ person. The alien hesitated when Tony first saw Rhodey, the only time Tony had to wait for it to spit out a rank for him. Tony knew it wasn’t ‘none’ or ‘a little’, but had to be one of the other two. He stared at Rhodey for a long time, barely breathing, until the thing finally gave him an unusually quiet ‘a lot’, followed by the feelings of _mourning_ , and that’s when Tony realised that the thing was _searching_ for someone. Before then, he thought it just ranked people according to their threat level to his, and thus the alien’s, survival. Now he knew, the people-ranking-thing was purposeful, but for what?

Why did Rhodey score so high?

No one knew.

He tried to figure out what Rhodey and Pepper had in common, since they both scored ‘a lot’, but they were as different as day and night. One was a brilliant military man, the other a brilliant executive, and Tony was left thinking that it was after someone intelligent with no tolerance for _bullshit._

Looking at pictures or television didn’t work. That would’ve been too easy, wouldn’t it? Stupid parasite alien nonsense.

It was almost bearable to live like this, Tony thought, with the alien resting in his brain, except he would never be satisfied with a threat of the alien killing him at any moment constantly hanging over his head, not knowing when it might alter his personality, or change him in some other way. No-one was allowed to tell him what to do, not even some parasite in his brain. He was Tony Stark, and no-one or nothing would alter that.

 

***

 

“Tony, but are _you_ okay? You have that thing in your brain. How do you feel about it?” Rhodey said.

“What do you mean, how I feel? Like a man with an alien in his brain, but don’t worry, I’m solving it.” Tony patted Rhodey’s shoulder in reassurance, then returned to arranging the glass containers for the next batch of tests.

“I have no doubt you will.” Rhodey’s nose crinkled watching Tony break a couple of pens into the containers. “I’m worried about _you_.”

Tony poured liquid nitrogen into one of the jars, watching the steam pour out the glass. What could Tony possibly say to him? Tony was experiencing a small setback, was all. “I’m fine, really.”

“Having an alien in your head would change any person, Tony. I know you’re the best equipped to solve this, but I’m worried what it’s doing to you in a _not_ -possessing way, but in a ‘holy crap, I have an alien in my head!’ way.”

Tony looked up. “Would you rather I felt depressed?”

“Not depressed, Tony, but maybe freaking out a little?”

“What is there to freak out for? I can fix this, so it’s all under control.” He waved at his set-up.

“Tony.”

Tony forced himself to still. He planted both gloved hands on the workbench and took a deep breath. “I get your point.” He uncurled his fists. “I’m okay. Really.” He put the nitrogen away and turned to face Rhodey. “Happy now?”

Rhodey sighed. “I worry for you sometimes. I know you think you have everything under control, but…”

“Rod, I appreciate it, but I also know you can’t solve a problem by thinking happy thoughts. Emotions are a waste of time. Intellect, on the other hand, can actually get you somewhere.” He tipped the jar over and peered at the results. The thing still retained its shape. He prodded, but the thing deformed as if rubbery, not the brittle shell like he expected. It wasn’t made of any organic sequences he knew, but still, what the fuck?

Rhodey shook his head. “You know, Tony, no decision is ever 100% logic. That’s just how humans work. I hope you get the bug out of your head very soon. I know how much it means to you to be an Avenger, and to be a free person in general.” He motioned to the GPS tracker. “In the meantime, it’s okay to freak out a little. You’re still human.”

Tony put a fist over his heart. “Thanks, Rod. I promise you’ll be the first person I call when I freak out.”

Rhodey shook his head. A moment later, he smiled.

 

***

 

“I’ve finished compiling the relevant cases,” Friday said in a neutral voice. Tony held his breath. “The success rate of such surgeries has been…” she hesitated, and Tony’s stomach sank. “Zero percent.”

Tony collapsed into the nearest chair. “Zero percent?”

“There has been 213 cases that are relevant to the surgery required. 157 patients died in-surgery. 54 died in the intensive care unit or immediately following the surgery. The remaining two patients died from non-surgical injuries.”

“Non— They attacked the doctors?” Tony said in disbelief.

“It appears so.”

Tony bit his lip.

“The neuro-dampener test has finished,” Friday distracted him out of his thoughts.

“Thanks, Fri.” He was glad for the distraction. The less he thought about being stuck with that thing forever, the better.

He looked inside the cradle of the electrical test. If he couldn’t remove the alien surgically, he could force it out. Isolate it, spot freeze it, a numerous other ways a living thing could die.

He frowned at what he saw inside the microscope. The dead specimen looked fine, no signs of liquifying that he expected. He couldn’t slowly melt all its whiskers and free himself this way.

“Next!” he said aloud. He had about another 33 tests to check before he could legitimately start getting worried.

Until then, he won’t.

 

***

 

Two weeks later, Tony Stark was starting to get worried.

All the tests failed. And not just failed, spectacularly failed. The thing was resistant to almost any kind of force he subjected it to. It seemed to be organic in nature, but upon closer study, it wasn’t made of carbons that existed on Earth. The only way to kill it seemed to be to cut off its food supply, but given that the said food was the blood carrying nutrients to his brain, cutting the food to his brain wasn’t an option.

On the plus side, there were no changes to his brain chemistry. Not even the waste from the thing. He’d done more monitoring to understand how it functioned, and the thing did not produce waste. Every living thing produced waste, even microbes. Which meant it stored the waste inside itself. Which meant it was getting more and more toxic. It took him many tries and very delicate monitoring equipment to figure out its nutrient consumption, because it didn’t follow any creature on Earth. He then calculated how much storage it had based on its body size, and therefore how much time he had before the thing would start poisoning him.

Two years.

Ah poisons, his old friends.

He was 99.9% sure the thing wasn’t natural.

Which raised a whole nest of thorny questions.

“Where do you think that ship was headed?” Rhodey asked.

Tony had tried to recalculate its original path based on satellite data. “Can’t tell. It crashed into space junk just inside the satellite’s range. It could’ve gone to any number of galaxies.” SHIELD conducted their own investigations on the ship while Tony focused more on the alien. The ship was unmanned. Cargo-only. There was nothing else of value other than millions of those alien-containing pens. Most of those storage cells were actually empty, only a few containing the pens. But Tony hardly cared for the ship. He wanted to know who created those aliens, and _why_.

“Maybe it’s looking for the one person who can take it out of you,” Rhodey said. “Like a new host or something?”

Tony snorted. “I doubt that’s what it’s looking for.”

“Well, we don’t really know what it wants.” Rhodey randomly flipped the channel. Neither of them watched the TV anyway. “Why don’t we find out?”

“You mean, find that ‘number one’?” He got tired of describing the complex sensations the alien made him feel whenever he saw a face, so he swapped to numbers. Everyone got the numbers. The ‘hell no’ was a four, and so it went until the last unknown rank was a one.

“Yeah, go find the ‘one’ guy. That’s what it’s driving you to do, isn’t it? Why else is it ranking every person you meet?”

“It didn’t rate Vision,” Tony reminded him.

“Because he isn’t human?”

Fair point.

“Just try it. Maybe they’ll know more about how to extract it from your brain.”

Tony really doubted that, but, glancing at his messy workbench littered with over a dozen failed tests, he was willing to try anything.

“Yeah right. You just want to know who one-upped you on the rating system.”

Rhodey grinned. Tony couldn’t help smiling back. It’s been so long since he’d done that, his mouth felt unnatural.

“There’s a hitch.” Tony rose his wrist and the ugly shackle encircling. “I can’t leave.”

“Then bring the faces to you,” Rhodey suggested.

Tony wanted to slap himself for not realising something so simple. “You’re right. The public must be missing the Iron Man by now. I shouldn’t leave my fans unsatisfied, right?”

Rhodey was grinning at him. “You can do it, Tony.”

Meeting ‘the one’ wouldn’t kill him, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic now has a theme song! It’s “The summer of 69” by Bryan Adams. I know, how the hell does it relate to Tony battling an alien in his head? Besides being an awesome song, one day it struck me that the song is a summary for this story, from beginning to end. Since we don’t have the full story yet, just imagine “six-string” is the alien and “you” as in “that’s how I met you etc” is Stephen. The song fits so well it’s scary. The song seems nostalgic/sad, but this story ultimately is a happy story. Angst with a Happy Ending. I just can’t put these lovely characters through a bunch of suffering and not give them a happy journey in the end.  
> 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A warning for short but intense descriptions of pain in this chapter. There are no injuries or torture, but I thought I’d mention in case anyone is especially sensitive. This fic isn’t gonna be graphic or overly gory, so most of you would probably be safe.

Iron Man fans swarmed the city. Tony had booked the local city hall, his mansion hardly suitable for accommodating thousands of people. His bodyguards stood next to him in a protective half-circle, Fury’s chaperones just a little further. Tony didn’t see any guns but he knew both groups were armed to the teeth. He couldn’t remember all the arguments he used to convince Fury to let him host this fan-signing session; Tony thought he had came up with at least fifty, most of them on the spot, his head pleasantly aching afterwards. He didn’t remember his head aching like that since he’d done two masters final exams simultaneously because…why the hell not? He’d finally gotten a challenge out of it.

It was lunch break and he was disappointed. Only 4s, 3s and 2s. He's been at it for three hours and still no 1s. He expected to meet at least a couple, but no such luck.

He began to wonder if his alien was defective. What if here was no such thing as a 1?

A feeling washed over him that there was in fact a 1. _Would you quit that?_ _I’m busy_. Tony thought. Stupid alien.

It's been more talkative today. Maybe it was the constant shuffling of faces as Tony signed Iron Man posters for the fans. For the sake of speed, Tony didn't pose for photos, only signing any merchandise or a generic poster.

He even flew in his iron man suit above the waiting line, Fury be damned, hoping to find a 1, remembering to wave every once in a while. He needed to be pretty close for the alien to give a score, so he flew towards those that couldn’t make it to the front today, and he slowed whenever the alien hesitated. Hesitation meant that the person automatically wasn't a 3 or a 4, but a serious contender for the 1. He made small talk and shook hands while the creature decided. As soon as it gave its verdict, a 2, sigh, Tony'd take off again. The line was massive, police had to come and control the streets because fans blocked city traffic. Tony didn't ticket the event, wanting to get the largest pool of candidates, and he could see people of all walks of life sitting on the sidewalks, waiting their turn. There were too many of them to accommodate them all during the six-hour event.

It was four pm and still no sign of the 1. In desperation, for Tony expected to have met several of them by now - it's just a rank, for fuck's sake, he announced he'd do another two hours, much to the delight of the fans. He was exhausted, the constant smiling made his lips and jaw hurt, he couldn't recount how many times he'd made the same small talk, and it felt like he was an observer looking at himself signing and talking rather than the participant. Occasionally, the alien would hesitate and Tony'd snap to attention, begging it to make up its mind.

No, still only a 2.

It was five pm and Tony couldn't do this anymore. It was a failure. Just like every other test he tried. He calculated his success chance of convincing Fury to let him host another of these events, while signing a poster with the fan's name, that he jerked when a strong voice called him from behind.

"Stark, I need your help."

 

 ***

 

"Stark, I need your help."

Tony knew that voice. He turned around and saw Stephen Strange, the Sorcerer Supreme, walk towards him from the dark corner of the building. A shower of sparks faded where the sorcerer had just stepped out of a portal.

The sorcerer looked the worst for wear, his intricate blue robes singed and streaks of black marring those beautiful high cheekbones. Beautiful? Hold on a minute…

Stephen’s hair was in disarray like he’d just been through a tornado. His right sleeve was completely torn off the shoulder showcasing the pale, smooth skin of his arm and glorious shifting muscles as he marched towards Tony. The scars of his hand and forearm surgery were also visible, criss-crossing his skin. They were such a shame, but Tony had accepted them long ago, same as his own artificially modified heart. Those striking grey-blue eyes seemed all the more potent, accented with the black soot, the soot also masking the grey streaks at his temples and making Stephen look surprisingly young, like he was the sorcerer apprentice rather than the Sorcerer Supreme. And that face, like Stephen was ready to flip the table and drag Tony away by force if necessary—

Tony’s heart skipped a bit. He hadn’t seen Stephen this pissed in a good long while. Tony couldn’t help a smile that crept onto his face. Hell yeah, his day just got a ton more awesome.

“What’s up, Doc?” He said casualty, still sitting and fiddling with the marker. He had forgotten the fan’s name immediately.

Stephen jogged within range and the alien went into the judging state. Which meant Strange wasn't a 4 or a 3 - the alien was very quick to point those out. He'd be a definite 2. Tony didn't hope for a 1 anymore.

"Stark."

Stephen was several steps away. He warily looked at the fans and the bodyguards, and didn't come closer. "Sorry to disrupt your fan signing session, but this is an emergency."

 _I can see that_ , Tony thought, looking at Stephen’s unusual form of dress, only half-hearing what Stephen said. His attention was on the alien, who was still judging. And judging. That was weird, and Tony’s heart beat faster.

"I don't think you got the memo," Tony stood up and took off his glasses. Maybe it'd help the alien make up its mind sooner.

Strange rose an eyebrow.

Tony tapped the SHIELD GPS tracker on his wrist. "I'm officially on vocation right now.” Getting SHIELD's agreement to let him run this event was more pain than the alien burrowing into him.

"Do I even want to know how you got into that one?" Stephen looked only mildly surprised. Tony expected a sneer, or at least a condescending demand for an explanation, but not this…acceptance? The alien perked up at this, oh my god, still undecided? "That looks like one terrible fashion accessory, but I don't need your battle prowess right now. I have a monster on my hands that's part magic part machine and I need your expertise. We've contained its magic but my men can't get to it because of an invisible forcefield. It’s definitely not magical. The monster moves like liquid metal."

"Like Terminator 3?"

"Yes, if the Terminator 3 was a giant hippo."

Tony snapped his fingers as potential solution jumped into his mind. "I know what that is." Tony's mind buzzed with how he was gonna construct the electric circuit to disrupt that thing's electron flow.

Stephen looked relieved for a moment. His shoulders dropped, the tension lines on his forehead relaxed, and his electric grey eyes softened. It was a good look on him. "Let's go," Stephen said.

"I need my—"

Tony forgot the rest of the sentence as the alien finally gave him its score.

One.

Stephen was One.

Tony had no idea what his expression must’ve looked like, but by the look on Stephen’s face, his eyes must’ve been bulging.

Without thinking, he ran to Stephen. Stephen took a step back, but Tony grabbed his arm before he could move any further. "You!" He grabbed Stephen’s confused face, keeping him still as he tried to figure out, why him? Why not Rhodey or Pepper?

"What the hell are you doing?" Stephen said, raising his arms and trying to pry Tony's hands away from his face, but Tony was barely listening.

Tony realised what he was doing and let go. "The alien made me do it!" He blurted, instead gripping Stephen’s shoulder. "You have no idea how much I searched for a One, and this person, the one the alien wants, is you."

Stephen's face merged to annoyance. "I don't have time for this!" Stephen snapped, trying to free his shoulder. "My people are dying as we speak!"

"Wait!" Tony grabbed Stephen’s arm. He knew he was clingy, but he couldn’t let the man leave. He still had questions. "I'll come, but then we definitely talk, okay?" He didn't give Stephen a chance to respond. "I need my tools."

He could see Stephen shift into battle mode, mouth a flat line. "Where are these tools?"

"In my workshop. Friday can send them down—"

Stephen opened a portal to the workshop. "Or that." Tony turned to the fans. "Sorry guys, but duty calls. Thanks for coming to the sign up, but I have to go."

The fans at the front looked disappointed, but the rest cheered to him. "Iron Man!" they chanted.

He turned to Stephen.

"After you," Stephen said.

Tony stepped towards the portal. He looked at Stephen, but trusted the man wouldn't run away until Tony made him the device, and tentatively, let go of his arm.

A terrible, all-consuming pain hit Tony without warning. It started at his forehead and quickly spread to every limb, feeling like he'd been swallowed by an inferno. His knees buckled. He didn’t even register the extra pain of falling. It was all-consuming, and he couldn’t make it stop, scraping the floor and kicking out at nothing.

Then suddenly, it stopped. The relief was so sweet that tears gathered in Tony’s eyes. That was the most intense pain he'd ever had, worse than Afghanistan. He was on his back on the ground, body guards surrounding him, with Stephen directly above him, touching his face. "I'm a doctor," he reassured the bodyguards. "Stark, can you hear me?" He looked into Tony’s eyes, and Tony knew he was checking to see if they were dilated. Tony sat up, knowing he was making a scene. A hush fell over the fans, and Tony looked around to figure out what the hell had caused that. But nothing was amiss, no snipers, the square was the same as before. The portal was gone, and Stephen looked at him with concern.

 _The One_.

Something twisted in Tony's stomach.

"What was that?" Stephen asked, and Tony could feel the doctor's hand on his shoulder.

"I don't know," Tony tried to stand and Stephen helped him. He felt shaky with the memory, but his legs held up fine. Like he was never hurt to begin with.

"What do you mean you don't know? Where did it start?"

"Like a sudden shooting pain all over my body. Look Doc, I'm fine. Let's get those tools." He smiled at the fans. "All good, nothing to see here."

Everyone looked concerned.

"Fine," Stephen said. The hand on Tony's shoulder slid off.

"Gah!" Tony grabbed his forehead as the pain wracked him even worse, and he was falling, until a pair of arms picked him up. Instantly, the pain ceased. He looked up to see who was holding him, but he already knew. Concerned grey eyes met his.

"You are not fine," Stephen said, helping Tony stand again. Tony grabbed his hand before Stephen could let go again. "You should go to the hospital."

Tony saw the concerned look on Stephen's face. _The One_ , echoed in his head again.

"Shit," Tony said.

Stephen and the body guards looked at him with concern. "I have a theory," Tony said before Stephen could say anything else. He brought up Stephen’s hand, and the sorcerer frowned. "I'm gonna let go of your hand."

He let go.

Pain.

He quickly grabbed Stephen's hand again. "Nope, not doing that again." He was gasping for breath and sweating.

"What the hell is going on?" Stephen asked.

"It seems that whenever I stop touching you I get wracked with terrible pain," Tony said matter-of-factly. "There, problem solved. You still want that device?"

That seemed to snap Stephen out of his stupor. "Make sure you get that looked at, after." He made another portal in the air.

They stepped through, Tony holding on to Stephen’s wrist. "Friday, get me part B-23, C-49 and ten meters of copper coil."

"Sure thing, boss."

Tony walked over to his workstation and fervently pried open cabinets. "Where is it?" He muttered, looking for the prototype he was working on two months ago to disable Wakanda’s shield. He hadn’t intended to use it without permission. Scientific curiosity drove him to try it, was all.

He was aware Stephen was watching him like a hawk, and Tony knew he was avoiding the issue. He didn't want to think what all this meant. Thinking about it he could feel panic building and he didn’t want to deal with that right then.

He found the flat black and blue disk, just as a mark-46 brought in the other two parts and the copper. "I need both my hands now," he said, not looking at Stephen. He felt the sorcerer shift, and a hand landed on his shoulder. Tony hesitated, then let go of Stephen’s hand.

Nothing happened.

He breathed a sign of relief and switched on the soldering iron.

"What are you doing?" Stephen asked.

"Making you a makeshift disruptor." It only took two minutes to attach the required parts. He held up the finished device, which looked like a TNT box with a bunch of coils around it, and looked expectantly at Stephen.

He wanted to activate his suit before he went to the battle zone, but was suddenly unsure if the pain would return if he couldn't touch Stephen.

He shifted the device into one hand and grabbed Stephen’s arm with the other. "Let's go."

Stephen opened a portal and Tony whistled at the chaos. A giant amoeba made of liquid metal fought kung-fu sorcerers, mandalas around all their wrists. Three giant orange mandalas pierced the monster in the middle, preventing it from moving. It looked like it couldn’t separate itself into smaller parts, which was good for Tony's plan. The thing roared like an enraged hippo, which he understood why Stephen had given it that name.

There were eight sorcerers left fighting, several more on the ground unconscious or clutching at their injuries. The ground was black as if struck by lightning, or an explosion. The trees were dead and pitch black. Red portals, similar to Strange's but more like slits than ovals, opened up in front of the thing, only for two or three sorcerers to immediately fire at them with mandalas. The portals closed, but in the brief moment they appeared, Tony saw something dark and writhing on the other side. Better not let those things do what they wanted.

"Stark!" Stephen got his attention. "We can't hold out much longer!" As he said this, a dark portal opened behind one of the wizards and something dark and tentacle-like wrapped around the man's neck and dragged him inside, screaming. The others quickly fired their mandalas at it and closed it, but the damage was done. Only seven sorcerers left. "We need to end this now!"

Tony activated the switch. The device emitted a low whining hum as it began to power up. He thrust it at Stephen. "Drop that on top of it. And tell your men to get away, the shockwave—"

Stephen rose in the air before Tony could finish. Tony screamed as terrible pain seized his whole body. "Strange!" he tried to scream, but he couldn't tell if he managed to say anything. The pain was all consuming. He writhed on the floor, the convulsions so strong he couldn't stand. He tried to crawl where he thought Stephen flew, but he couldn’t see anything. All he saw was red and pain. He couldn't even raise his hands, completely helpless. "Strange!" he tried to say. He couldn’t tell up from down, just the burning, all consuming, pain.

He was gonna die.

The pain was unbearable. He felt like his whole body screamed.

How was he still alive?

Oh my god it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts

Oh god, let me die already.

Was he crawling towards Stephen? He couldn’t tell what was happening anymore.

Couldn't Stephen hear him screaming?

Where was he?

Did Stephen just left him to die like this?

Until suddenly the pain was gone.

Tony blinked, vision finally returning to his eyes. He was lying on the ground, on his side, wheezing. His lungs were on fire, throat hoarse and burning. He felt something move above him and saw the cape that Stephen wore, the one that let Stephen fly, wring itself from beneath Tony, one corner of it looping Tony’s hand to Stephen's ankle.

He squeezed the said ankle like his sanity depended on it. He heard Stephen hiss. He looked ahead, and saw that Stephen was casting a large complex-looking mandala over the monster. The sorcerers were lashing at it with glowing weapons, tearing large chunks from its metal flesh. The mandala glowed a blinding yellow, and the monster roared one last time, before melting into a puddle of metal, whatever force animating it had been extinguished.

Stephen sighed, his hands fading back to normal. He was about to move but Tony forcefully tagged on his ankle. Stephen looked down on him, his mouth opening in a "oh," before Tony launched himself up and tackled the wizard to the ground.

"You bastard!" he punched Stephen in the jaw, then grabbed his ridiculous outfit and shook him. The sorcerer's head bobbed up and down with the force. "Do you have any idea how much that hurt? You could've at least warned me! You saw how I reacted to you earlier." He shook him once really harshly for good measure. "Or you could've dropped it through a portal on top of that thing!"

Until a wooden staff was shoved in front of his face. "Unhand him!" Someone said.

Tony rose his gaze into the eyes of a familiar stout Asian man. Wong, was it?

"Relax, I'm just giving him a piece of my mind." Tony dug his hands into Stephen's shoulders so hard he knew the sorcerer would have bruises afterwards. Stephen looked dazed, but quickly recovered. "It's over now," Tony said, getting off the man but keeping his wrist captive again. "Look, I don't know what brought it on, but I'd appreciate you not flying away like that and leaving me to die."

Stephen got up, an icy look on his face. He rose his free hand, and the weapons lowered. "Please clean up without me. I have an important conversation to have with Mr Stark."

The others looked hesitantly at Stephen, who gingerly touched his split lip and hissed, his grey eyes glaring at Tony. When neither he nor Tony punched each other for several seconds, the sorcerers went back to the beast, helping the dead and the wounded.

"Your well-being hardly mattered, Stark, when a whole legion of those monsters was trying to break into Earth. I'd do the same actions again if I had the choice."

Tony lifted him by the collar. It was hard given Tony was slightly shorter, but Tony managed. Stephen didn't even have the dignity to look ashamed, only determination and stubbornness in those icy grey eyes. "If it came between choosing you and saving the universe, I'd chose the universe. It's my duty to protect this dimension from the mythical threats." He grabbed at the hand holding him, and Tony lowered him down.

Tony wanted to punch him so bad. "If you had felt that pain, you'd have both saved the universe and not left me to die! Your cloak brought me to you. The cloak!"

The said cloak chose that moment to settle on Stephen's shoulders.

"Thanks buddy," Tony said. "Even if your master is ungrateful."

"What do you want me to say?" Stephen threw up his arms "That I'm so sorry I was following your very instructions to save my men? I can’t believe that device actually worked."

"Of course it worked, I made it." He wanted to shake Stephen some more, but now that the mission was over, he had more pressing things to do. Like figuring out what caused the pain in the first place, and how to get rid of it. "Portal us back into my workshop. I want to run a few scans, to see what that thing's doing to my brain, see if we can figure out why it's zapping me with pain as soon as I let you go."

Stephen clearly didn't want to go, looking at the monster.

"Your men can handle the clean-up."

"Let's go." Stephen created the portal. "I don't want to be stuck to you any second longer than necessary."

Tony grinned. "Believe me, the feeling's mutual."


	4. Chapter 4

"Let me understand this," Stephen said. "You inhaled an alien because it _smelled_ nice, and now it zaps you with pain as soon as you let go of my leg?"

"I told you, it never zapped me until today." Tony said as the MRI released him. He frowned at the image. His brain still looked like the pin-cushion from three weeks ago, the scan registering no new chemical readings. No hints as to what had upset the alien, or why. "And it smelled like strawberries."

Stephen scoffed, and Tony held tighter onto the sorcerer's belt, lest he walked away again.

Calling Stephen's belt a belt was a massive understatement. It was made of two pleated brown belts wrapped over a wide leather band in a strategically pleasing pattern around's Stephen's narrow waist, the belts a work of art as well as keeping Stephen's robes from unraveling. Tony could hook his fingers around just one belt as they were thick and hugged close to Stephen's body. If this was any other situation, Tony'd have a field day playing with Stephen's belts, maybe even taking one off and seeing what happened. Tony had never dared; the sorcerer was protective of his personal space and Tony knew Stephen would lose all respect for him if he tried.

But now…

Stephen froze at the tug. His grey gaze fell on Tony's hand, unsmiling.

"Why the long fa—" Tony's breath caught, and he couldn't look away from Stephens's face. He felt something stir in his mind, and suddenly knew, in that alien non-language of theirs, _he is the One_.

 _The one for what?_ Tony wanted to reach into his brain and strangle the damn bug. _C'mon, drop me a fucking clue!_

Silence.

"So, what does it want me to do?" Stephen asked, voice guarded.

Tony faltered. "I, ugh, I thought you'd tell me, Doc," he said, mouth dry. "You're the one I'm literally dying to let go of."

"I've never dealt with brain-possessing aliens, how am I supposed to deal with it?" Stephen said. "How bad is it? Can a surgery get it out?"

Tony handed him the scan.

Stephen frowned as his gaze flitted about the image. "How are you alive?" His eyebrows shot up as he stared at Tony.

"Would everyone stop asking me that?" Tony hit his own chest. "What am I, a zombie?"

"It has probes in literally every part of your brain. It can make you stop breathing," Stephen whispered. Did Tony imagine it, or did he sound… worried?

Tony's rage drained and he felt exhausted. "Tell me something I don't know," he whispered without any fire, only because of Stephen's suddenly quiet voice. "No one can extract it without killing me."

"I could've." Stephen's gaze looked far away. He rose his trembling hands. "But not anymore."

Tony closed his eyes for one bitter moment. "Maybe Rhodey was right," he began, "Maybe you were meant to get that thing out. But you can't." He looked at the workbench, littered with data and failed test analyses. "So now what?" He hit the desk and fought the rising panic. His hands were beginning to shake. Finding a One was his only lead. And he came out of it being worse than before.

He couldn't walk away from Stephen or he was in agony. He wished he never touched the gold pens. He wished he didn't find Strange.

A sudden pins and needles licked up his spine and he stepped closer to Stephen, almost back-to-chest. The sensation was gone.

"Would you mind?" Stephen said.

"It’s the freaking alien," Tony said.

Stephen rolled his eyes. "If you're gonna stare at papers, pull up a chair. My feet are hurting."

“What am I, your butler?” But Tony did as he was told. The idea of being stuck to Stephen was terrifying, but he had yet to figure out why the alien suddenly decided to hurt him. If Stephen left through one of those portal things, Tony would be left in agony for hours, or days; hopefully someone would put him under if that was the case. Or, he might go insane. Who knew what the mind did under such prolonged periods of torture?

Stephen sat, Tony's hand still attached to his belt. Stephen busied himself studying the scan again, while Tony forced himself to go over the data one more time. Maybe some piece of information would jump at him and trigger a way forward. He wouldn't suffer like this for long.

An hour passed. The only useful thing Tony did was take another scan, without Stephen touching him. Tony grit his teeth just long enough. He wasn't a doctor, but he learned enough about brain biology to tell the scan didn't look good.

He was out of ideas.

But he couldn't tell Stephen that.

"Are you done yet?" Stephen looked up from the ancient book he was reading. "I have to check up on survivors." Night was falling outside.

Tony whirled around, his hand tightening on Stephen's belt. He looked at Stephen, meaning to say something, but his mind drew blank. "You can't go," he said.

"What do you mean I can't go?"

Tony swallowed. "I haven't figured out how to make it stop zapping me yet."

Stephen's eyes bore into him. "How much longer do you need? You can't expect me to stay here all night."

Tony knew that. He thought he could convince Stephen to stay maybe one night, but anymore after that?

"Look, I get it. If the roles were reversed and you were the one clinging to me, I'd have said the same thing.  But listen. I'll figure it out, trust me. I need more time."

"How much time?"

Tony shrugged. "A week?"

"A week!" Stephen threw up his arms. "I can't stay here for a week!" He rose off his chair. Tony's hand pulled at the belt.

"Waaait!" Tony yelled in warning too late.

Tony watched in slow motion as Stephen ripped away from his grasp.

Stephen froze.

Tony froze.

Tony's fingers hoovered about an inch from Stephen's waist, and it didn't hurt. A terrible tingle went up Tony's spine, like pins and needles, but it didn’t hurt.

They slowly looked at each other.

"I don't have to touch you!" Stephen was about to walk away, and Tony quickly snatched his wrist before Stephen moved any further.

"Don't. It feels like pins and needles, any further and I'd be wracked with pain."

Stephen looked like he didn't believe him.

"Oh quit that face. Why would I lie? So I can hold your hand like in a bad teenage soap opera? I have better things to do with my time, like running my company."

That seemed to be the right thing to say, as Tony didn't realise how wound up Stephen was until he stood more normally.

"Stay still, I want to test the limit of this."

Slowly, Tony let go of Stephen's hand. Maybe the more time they spent together, the more distance the alien would give him?

Tony stood in front of Stephen, an arm's length apart, before the tingles started to get unbearable. "This is how far I can move away now."

"Fabulous," Stephen mocked. "A whole foot of space. Better than holding hands, I suppose."

Tony nudged him back into the chair at the workstation, and wordlessly pulled out the required materials. In two minutes, he handed Stephen a necklace.

"What's this?" Stephen asked.

"It's a simple device that would vibrate when we move more than a foot from each other," Tony said, sliding his own necklace on, which looked like shiny black beads. "This way you'll know if you're about to accidentally walk too far. Look, I even made it match your outfit!" The protruding claw-like parts were a dark brown colour matching Stephen's belts.

"Whatever." Stephen slipped the necklace on.

"Asshole."

Stephen's face changed into concerned, not what Tony expected after the asshole comment. "I've been holding off for a while, but… I need to use the bathroom."

"Oh." Tony looked around as if something on the workbench would help. "Well, let's go."

"Are you coming with me?" Stephen's voice was incredulous.

"I don't have much of a choice, Doc," Tony said. "Either I follow you inside or I'm in pain. I chose to follow you."

"You know what, I think I will hold off for now."

Tony hated what he was about to say, but it was true. "You're better off not holding. I can work fast, but not that fast."

"You've got to be kidding me. I have to pee with you watching over my shoulder?"

"Let's talk about this like adults, shall we? I don't care about watching you, I just want to get the alien out of my brain.” Well, he didn’t mind peeking a little, but there was no way he’d tell Stephen that. That he thought the wizard was… somewhat good-looking. Okay, maybe more than somewhat. Not as hot as Tony, of course, but no one could come close to Tony’s hotness anyway. In normal circumstances, if they came to a party, Tony might’ve tried to bed him. Crazy magical powers notwithstanding. Just picturing it now, this uptight asshole finally relaxing after a good thorough fucking, Tony struggled to school his mind back on the topic. “But in the meantime, I'll do what I have to. So suck it up, get over yourself, and go pee."

"With you watching me."

"With me—" Tony stopped. "Would you grow up? How is this different than pissing at a public toilet? Are you worried it's _me_? Fine, I'll turn around so the dainty maiden can get her privacy."

"If you haven't been so careless with an alien object, we wouldn't be having this issue!"

 

 ***

 

“How much longer?” Stephen asked, his forehead pressing into the ancient book's cover. “I’m needed in the sanctum.”

Tony really wished he could've let Stephen go. “Look, Doc, we don’t have an option. You have to stay for now.”

“The hell I do!” Stephen stood, his chair skidding across the floor. Stormy eyes fixated on Tony.

Tony stepped back, his arm pulling taut. "Easy there, Magical Hats. The world's not ending, okay?" He'd never seen Stephen like this. "Look. I don’t want us to be stuck together either. I wouldn’t wish this pain on my worst enemy." Tony held up his remaining hand, palm open in surrender. "The only reason I’m in my home and not in some SHIELD cell is that I have their GPS tracker and Friday’s sending them hourly status reports in case I start craving human flesh or something. I'd love for you to leave, but it's simply not possible."

Stephen scoffed. He rubbed his temples, then suddenly drew his hands into fists. “I’ve had enough of this.”

"Look, we don't have an option. It's staying close or the alien's making a puree out of my brain."

"You mean you're the one who has no options. I can walk away from here and never come back."

"Don't you dare," Tony warned. "I _will_ tie you up if I have to. Don't make me tie you up, Stephen."

"You say as if you could." There was an edge of superiority in Stephen's voice. "I'd like to see you try."

Stephen's hands began to glow orange, and before Tony had time to think, he tackled Stephen to the floor. They crashed into a cabinet, and Tony's shoulder smarted where it took the impact. But he had bigger issues, like Stephen leaving him in agony. He didn't bother checking how Stephen took the fall; instead he grabbed the sorcerer's scarred hands and twisted painfully. Stephen cried out in pain, trying to kick him off. Tony rolled them until Stephen ended up with his back pressed into Tony's chest, Tony transferring both Stephen's hands into one and looped his free arm around the sorcerer's neck in a headlock. Stephen puffed from the pain, face sweaty and red. "Don't make me hurt you, Stephen. I really don't want to hurt you. Your hands look like they hurt a lot, imagine that all over your body. I don't get a choice in this. If I could remove the alien or go back in time and never sniff that thing in in the first place, I would do so in a heartbeat. But I can't, I'm stuck with this terrible affliction, and I need you to cooperate. You think this is hard on you? What do you think it's like for me, a CEO of a large corporation, an Avenger, stuck because of that thing? I want to get my life back just as much as you do!"

"Why me?" Stephen tried to twist himself free and Tony tightened his headlock until Stephen wheezed in discomfort. "Why couldn't it be someone else?"

"Hell if I know!" Tony roared. "But you are. You are the only one that scored the highest rating by the alien. I thought you could help me somehow, but I was clearly wrong." He eased so Stephen could breathe a little.

They laid on the floor, panting.

Tony suddenly realised just _who_ was sprawled on top of him, whose warmth seeped into his chest through their clothing. Stephen’s weight on Tony felt just right, not too heavy or too light, the planes of his body fitting Tony’s perfectly. Tony looked at the ceiling, wondering how the hell this had happened. They were pressed so close, not even an inch between them…

"Let go of me," Stephen said.

Tony held on a moment longer. "Promise me you won't run. Let's talk about this like grown-ups."

"Fine."

Tony didn't believe him. "I trust you, Strange." Slowly, he released the headlock, then the hands. Stephen sat up, rubbing his wrists.

The lack of warmth was noticeable. Tony resisted the urge to snuggle into his jacket. Instead he watched Stephen, ready to jump again if necessary. But he really hoped he wouldn’t need to.

"Show me the scans," Stephen said.

Tony frowned. "You've already seen them."

"No, the new ones, the ones where you're in pain. I want to see proof."

Tony's jaw snapped. He got up. "You think I'm lying about the pain?"

Stephen stood as well. "Scans don't lie."

Tony was speechless. "That's cold, Doc, even for you. Fine. Have the bloody scan!" He blew it up on the tablet from the workbench and shoved it at Stephen's chest. He turned his back on Stephen and crossed his arms. _Bloody Strange, can't even keep a tiny part of myself from the man._

He heard a gasp behind him.

“I knew you’d react like that,” Tony said.

He turned around, and saw Stephen's face had gone white. "You felt like this and you didn't show me?" The tablet shook in his hands.

"I thought you knew, doc," Tony said without aggression. Whatever rage Stephen had been brewing had dissipated.

"All your brain centres are going off the charts, you could've suffered permanent brain damage, and you didn't deem it necessary to show me this?"

Tony shrugged. "You can't help, so what was the point?"

"I don't understand you, Stark," Stephen said. "But I understand nerve damage." Stephen handed him the tablet and Tony reluctantly took it. "And what I see looks like agony. It's not ideal, but I'll stay."

"That's it?" Tony said in disbelief. "All I had to do was show you my brain scans?"

"I fully expect you to solve this within the week, so don't get too comfortable," Stephen said.

"As comfortable as living within a foot of another person can be. So, you're not gonna bail on me?"

"I'm not. Even I'm not that heartless."

"Could've fooled me."

"Ouch," Stephen said, with a deadpan voice, not hurt at all.  "But I wasn't lying when I said I have to return to the sanctum. I have duties to the universe even you can't pull me away from."

"How noble of you. When do you have to go?"

Stephen narrowed his eyes. "Tomorrow morning at the latest."

"Good. That still gives me some time.”

“Time to what?”

“Time to come up with a solution while I’m still in the workshop. Also time, to come up with what to say to Fury when I break the house arrest tomorrow.” He pointed at his wrist.

“You’re not coming to the sanctum with me.”

“I don’t think I have a choice," Tony said, wrapping his hand around Stephen's belt again.

They stood in silence.

“This is serious,” Stephen said. It seemed like the situation was finally sinking into his brain.

And into Tony’s. That necklace on his neck wasn’t for show. He was stuck with Strange. Where Stephen went, Tony had no choice but to follow. Because of the alien. “Yeah.”

They stood in silence some more.

“You still wanna pee?” Tony asked.

“Shut up.”


	5. Chapter 5

Turned out that peeing was the least of their problems. Tony opened a fold-out bed for Stephen to use, where Stephen currently slept with his back turned to Tony. It was two at night, and Tony sat at the workbench in his workshop, still not getting any closer to walking away a free man. His stomach grumbled; it was several hours after they ate, sharing the table squished side by side, but he couldn’t get up to go to the kitchen. His coffee cup was long empty, but he couldn’t just go brew a new one. He got Friday to fetch him some water with one of the suits; a small mercy. He wanted to do another scan, but couldn’t without waking up Strange, so he had to think long and hard how badly he needed that data.

The night before, he would’ve just got up and done it.

Tony rested his elbows on the table and pressed his forehead into his palms. “This sucks,” he whispered. The only time he permitted himself to whine. God, he was exhausted.

He counted to five. One, two… five.

Okay, done. Time to get back to work. If only he had any ideas.

He could sleep, but one look at Stephen’s back and Tony’d sit straighter in the chair.

It was gonna be a long night.

 

***

  

Someone shook Tony.

Tony’s eyes snapped open and he pushed the offender away. He lived alone, who the hell would shake him awake? His friends knew not to touch him, so it could only be an enemy or a one-night stand. A one-night stand he could care less, but an enemy—

Tony’s blurry vision registered blue robes and he instantly regretted what happened. The necklace vibrated, and _here it comes_ —

Stephen grabbed Tony's hand, saving Tony from crashing onto his ass in front of his workbench. Tony had fallen asleep, chest on the desk, face pressed onto a tablet. He had drooled on the thing. Yuck.

“I tried calling your name but you slept like a rock. Come on, get up!”

Tony straightened from half-falling onto the bench. Stephen still held his hand. Tony’s brain normally insta-booted in emergencies, but right then he couldn’t comprehend anything. Stephen’s been calling his name? What for?

“Good enough,” Stephen said. A glowing portal appeared in the middle of the room. “We’ve overslept already.” Stephen tugged Tony toward the glowing loop. “Hurry up!”

Tony’s pulse sky-rocketed as Stephen pulled him towards the magic thingy. “Wait a minute. Hold on!”

Stephen didn’t listen. His robes were still damaged from last night and his hair a mess, so Tony couldn’t tell if Stephen just woke or been meaning to do this for a while. Stephen's shoulders were tense, like a brick wall.

“At least let me wash my face,” Tony pleaded.

“No time,” Stephen said, voice losing some of the harshness. Instead he sounded somewhat apologetic. "Unlike you, I can't shirk my duties. The universe is counting on me."

Tony rubbed his face, trying to fully wake. He knew this had been coming. He didn't expect it to happen so soon. "Ugh. Fine.”

Tony stepped through the portal into a large hexagonal room with three massive doors, an emblem stamped in the middle of each door like a wax seal. But the most amazing thing was the projection of Earth hoovering over a tall marble plinth. Standing at the plinth was a Chinese man with a long black beard dressed in blue robes, in an older more austere style than Stephen’s. Stephen squeezed Tony’s hand and quickly stepped up the raised platform to stand next to the man. The man opened his eyes, having before looked in deep concentration. Stephen said some foreign words to him, sounding apologetic. The man stepped aside with difficulty and Stephen immediately took the vacated space, moving Tony’s hand to his shoulder as he laid both his hands flat on the pedestal’s octagonal surface above what Tony realised were very complex runes. Glowing orange symbols appeared beneath Stephen’s palms, and then wound around his arms up to his elbows like snakes. Tony had seen some strange shit but not like that. Those runes appeared alive, slowly rotating around Stephen’s hands and forearms. Stephen closed his eyes.

“You might want to sit down,” Stephen said, not opening his eyes. “We missed breakfast, so the next meal is lunch. _Do not_ disturb me.”

Stephen was doing some freaky magic shit, Tony didn’t want to be within a ten-foot pole of it. “Ughhh…”

He looked around, but there was nowhere to sit. There was no other furniture other than the raised central platform and the massive earth projection above it, which looked freakishly solid as it rotated. The doors were extensively ornate; poor craftsmen must have slaved an eternity to get all those intricate loops and dashes. The grey stone walls were carved to imitate recessed columns, like in a temple or something. The room at least had some windows, up high above the projection, showing a clear blue sky. It looked like early morning, wherever they were.

The old man bowed, even though Stephen couldn’t see, and walked through one of the doors.

“Wait—”

The door closed.

Tony rubbed his face, looking around the room one more time and at Stephen’s immobile posture. What the hell was Tony supposed to do? His stomach grumbled. _Eating something would’ve been nice, you asshole,_ he directed mentally at Stephen. So would’ve a trip to the bathroom and a shower. Tony took a whiff of his underarm and nearly fainted.

The sorcerer didn’t react.

Stephen stood all day in that lotus position or whatever the hell that pose was, while Tony was bored out of his mind. He tied and re-tied his shoelaces, his back leaning against Stephen's legs, seeing if he could come up with a funkier way to tie. Yes, he was _that_ bored.

“Be quiet, I have to concentrate,” Stephen said.

Tony literally hadn’t said a word since they arrived. “I _am_ quiet,” he ground out.

"Whatever you're doing, stop it." Stephen shook his head as if to clear it. "Meditate or something."

"Meditate? Are you out of your mind?"

In the end, Tony ended up sleeping on the raised dais with his arm hooked around Stephen's foot. It was uncomfortable as fuck but his brain was shutting down without any activity or food and he was tired as hell, and it was honestly that or counting time until Stephen needed to pee or something.

Wizards got toilet breaks, right?

Tony woke up feeling someone scratching his head. He craned his neck into the touch. It was so nice. He didn’t think Stephen had it in him. Until Tony registered that whatever was stroking his hair didn’t feel like fingers but something broad, like a cloth.

He opened his eyes and saw a swathe of red fabric hovering above his face, the rest of the cloak spread over him. Tony was practically wrapped in it, one corner of it looping his arm around Stephen’s ankle again. Stephen had his eyes closed, doing the concentration thing.

Tony sat up on the cold grey floor and tried to let go of the disappointment. He might’ve forgiven Stephen for the rude morning if he’d been the one to scratch Tony's head. Alas, Stephen was still an asshole.

Tony sighed, wrapped an arm around himself and tried not to look at the cloak too hard. “Thanks, buddy, but tone down the petting next time.” It hoovered next to him at eye level, also appearing to be sitting down and pondering. It may have saved him, but it still weirded him out how it floated by itself without being an AI. He had no idea what were its operating parameters. Could it understand human speech? He should ask Stephen next time.

Just a moment later the door opened to one of the sanctums—Tony assumed they were sanctums—and an Asian woman walked though. Stephen suddenly jerked and stepped aside as she hopped onto the dais. She resumed the same position Stephen had, hands close together on the octagonal pedestal, eyes closed. They talked for a couple of minutes, just pleasantries and wizardly mumbo-jumbo.

"Let's go," was the only thing Stephen said to him.

 

***

 

Lunch was a simple affair of tofu and almost every vegetable imaginable. Tony would’ve complained except the food tasted amazing. So many flavours, from sweet to sour to undertones of bitter to deliciously salty. His palate was thoroughly entertained, even if he wondered how Stephen and he would get enough calories from such meals.

He ate with his left hand while squeezing Stephen’s hand with his right. The sorcerer looked at him strangely when he saw Tony had no trouble holding his fork.

“You can close your mouth. I’m ambidextrous.” Tony smirked.

“I didn’t say anything,” Stephen said. He stared at his own fork like he’d never seen it before. “That must be nice.”

Tony shrugged.

Tony finally got to wash his face and underarms in the communal toilet. The bathroom was… brown brick walls, carved grey wooden partitions, an intricate rusted metal grate bolted to the large widow, and stone grey amenities completed the 'rustic' look. _Who am I kidding? I'm impressed this place even got a sewer._ Only Stephen was present to see him wash up, but still. His time at Hogwarts was real.

Then it was back to the monitoring room. Tony gripped his head. It was a special brand of torture, just for him. At least he got his phone this time. Jesus no wonder Stephen seemed to hate fun. If this was what Stephen did seven days a week…

The sky was beginning to darken when the Asian woman returned. Tony couldn’t contain his joy. He wanted to do backflips in his suit, or dance ten jigs in a row, or just strangle Stephen for making him sit on his ass on the stone floor in silence for hours. He’d have done just that except Stephen looked like he could barely stand. He swayed, before regaining his composure. His face looked pale, paler than normal. “Let’s go.” He walked towards the door bearing the familiar noughts-and-crosses seal.

“Please don’t tell me you’re going back to that room again,” Tony said as they stepped into a vast interior of a much more modern building, its architecture pleasing and closer to home. The entryway opened to a grand staircase leading to the second floor, with polished red marble floors and dark brown panelling throughout. Again, everything bore an intricate geometric pattern, no surface simply left as wood or blue paint.

Stephen didn’t answer straight away. His eyes looked a little unfocused. “Which room?”

“The one you just crawled out of!”

Stephen’s frown lightened. “Oh, that.” He sounded relieved. They climbed the grand curving stairs up to the second floor. “No, that’s done for today. It’s free time now, unless something else happens.”

Tony nodded. Thank god. “Show me your room. I might be able to set up a workshop there depending on how good your power is.”

“My power?” Stephen scratched his forehead, a glazed look in his eyes.

“Wow, you must be really out of it.” They stopped in front of a carved brown door. “Electrical power. Torque. Voltage. That kind of thing. A strong internet connection would be nice but not essential.”

Stephen shrugged. “Whatever.” He opened the door.

Inside was a small plain room. The walls were all blue except for the standing wardrobe close to the entry, made of reddish-brown wood, matching the overall interior of the building. A double bed was pressed into the far corner under an elegant tall window. A large writing desk, easily sitting eight people, dominated the central space, only housing two chairs. Stacks of books, loose notes and half-fallen scrolls littered all over the table. Nothing sat on the polished wooden floor, quite remarkable. The plain grey-blue bedding was neatly made, not fanatically hospital corners but not the mess of Tony’s own bed either. A bedside table housed some personal items, including a single picture frame of a woman, a broken watch and a clean teacup. The rest of the redwood dresser was again piled with books.

Tony really didn’t have much to say. He expected the sorcerer supreme to have a bit more glamour than this. He felt like he was coming to live in a monastery or something. Shit, was he really moving out? Moving in? With Stephen?

He swallowed as Stephen walked over to the bed and Tony had no choice but to follow. He eyed the existing power sockets when Stephen face-planted onto the bed. Tony sat on one knee, keeping his hand attached to Stephen’s belt. His eyebrow quirked up looking at Stephen’s unmoving body. Tony had no idea Stephen had a sense of humour. Face-planting was more of a Tony’s thing.

“You gonna nap?” Tony asked.

Stephen nodded, his face not lifting from the pillow.

“Hmm okay.”

Stephen shuffled over and Tony laid next to him, staring at the ceiling. What the hell did he sign up for? But Stephen didn’t seem to care, his breathing becoming even. Tony had no idea how Stephen could breathe face down into a pillow but that was the least of his concerns.

More like, how were they gonna live? Shower? Use the restroom? Sleep? As in, all night sleep. What if Stephen was called out to deal with something magical? Tony’d be out of his depth. A hindrance.

Focus. He wasn’t here to make Stephen’s life comfortable. He was gonna fix the alien, no matter what it took.

 

***

 

Stephen led Tony to the library. Ancient books lined the walls floor-to-the-ornate-thingy-before-the-ceiling, the spines annotated in faded foreign scripts. Stephen pulled out a big orange-bound book. “Most of the knowledge in Kamar-Taj centres arounds magical presences, which isn’t helpful since your alien is a physical being,” Stephen said. “I detect no magical influence from it whatsoever.”

Tony sagged. Good to confirm that the thing was as mundane as Tony had thought. “What you’re saying, Doc, is that your magic can’t help me here?”

Stephen hesitated, then inclined his head. “There are healing spells that are aimed at expelling foreign bodies, which the bug most certainly is. Maybe one of them would help. Although…”

Tony didn’t dare get his hopes up. Letting sorcerers mess with his head was way more terrifying than the doctors. He’d only agree if Stephen were to do it.

The thought took him off guard. He quickly shoved it under a lid, something to analyse and dissect later. “Although?”

Stephen looked uncomfortable. “I’m not sure how the alien would react to being expelled, surgically or magically. It could kill you, Tony.”

That wasn’t anything Tony hadn’t heard before. “Let’s run though the what-ifs after you find a suitable spell. Let’s see if sorcery can do what modern medicine couldn’t.”

Stephen gave him a rueful smile, and Tony got an uncanny feeling Stephen knew something he didn’t. “You… you know sorcery is superior?”

Stephen looked at him with those grey eyes, some understanding mirroring back at him just under the surface. Tony desperately wanted to know what Stephen had learned. “If the caster is willing to pay the price, anything is possible.”

“Then why—”

“The price, Tony,” Stephen’s sombre voice interrupted him. “Everything has a price. The cost of your spell, to end a life, even if it’s the life of an alien parasite, may be too great.”

Tony groaned. “Really? You sorcerers are so amazing but are scared to kill a 5cm-long prawn-like brain-snagging parasitic bug? Isn’t my life more important?”

“The universe doesn’t see it that way,” Stephen said, running a hand over the runes written in an ancient language. “There _are_ beings more powerful than others; you grossly outclass the bug, but in the eyes of the universe all life is sacred, and that bug in your brain could start a chain of events that could change the course of the world as we know it.”

“Gee, thanks. Glad to know I outclass a bug,” Tony said. “And yes, it would most certainly start a chain of events that would change the world as we know it because I am freaking Tony Stark, it is my brain, and if there’s one thing I know is that no one’s allowed to mess with it. I will move hail and high water and whatever the fuck is necessary to get that thing unstuck.” _Or die in two years trying_ , he added darkly in his thoughts. “It picked the worst brain to set up residence in.”

“Or the best brain.”

Tony’s thoughts screeched to a halt. Stephen watched him, waiting for Tony’s next line. “The best— Did you just compliment me?”

Stephen opened his mouth but nothing came out. He floundered, then cleared his throat and turned back to the book. “Well, you have inhaled an alien so I can’t comment on the validity of that statement. I’ll let you know if I find anything.”

Tony stared. Did Stephen just… flirt with him? In a kind of non-sexy, semi-insulting kind of way? Tony’s mouth quirked up.

“Sure, Doc, let me know what you find.”


	6. Chapter 6

Tony had set up his shiny new workshop in Stephen’s room and took a portable one—more like an advanced interactive tablet Tony carried with him to conferences—into the monitoring the universe room, set to night colours and no sound. For days Tony had researched the latest findings in neurology, or zoomed in on the alien’s prongs embedded into the various regions of his brain in 3D hologram, but even two weeks later, no new solutions were bubbling up, and the surgical procedure was too dangerous. What was Tony not seeing? He couldn’t shake the feeling that the answer was right under his nose.

They sat at Stephen’s desk, the books and scrolls having been delegated to a half of the desk, the rest housing Tony’s equipment. The monitoring had finished and Tony was tinkering away into the night.

Tony had to massively upgrade the electrical supply to the sanctum, much to the delight of the students who’d eventually live there, and to Stephen’s irritation. After a ‘generous donation’, the authorities laid a direct line to the building, and Tony himself wired the supply to Stephen’s room. Stephen was already frazzled from the week’s work and the jackhammering outside, so Tony took it upon himself limit the disturbance of electricians coming and going. The sanctum housed weird artefacts that Tony sometimes found himself reaching towards only to have his hand slapped by a very grumpy wizard. _Kill-joy_. Regardless, Tony respected Stephen’s wish to retain their privacy.

The whole remodelling process had worked out well, and Tony was rather proud. If only Stephen had appreciated what a massive favour he’d just done for the sanctum.

Instead Stephen gave him an irritated look from his book, sitting an arm-span away. “Can’t you be quiet?”

Tony finished his soldering. He was making another disruptor to replace the one they lost, while listening to an oncologist drone on about experimental treatments. Tony thought he’d been doing a remarkable job keeping the noise down, anticipating the tools he’d need in advance so he wouldn’t clang needlessly. “I haven’t _said_ anything,” Tony said, his volume rising.

“You’re always tapping your foot or rolling your stylus, even when you aren’t talking. Always moving, shuffling. Can’t you stay still for a second? That’s all I want.”

“Well, have you—” Tony was meant to say more, but the tight line of Stephen’s jaw stopped him.

“It’s _you_ who likes to hang around people all the time,” Stephen continued. “I like silence.”

“What can I say, I’m the life of the party.” Tony said weakly. He realised he was rolling a stylus and snatched his hands away like the thing was on fire. “Not that I hate quiet, but I don’t mind noise either.”

This wasn’t like Tony. He’d been this close to giving Stephen a piece of his mind, _Well, have_ you _thought that I’d love to blast Black Sabbath right now? How’d you like that, huh?_ but one look at Stephen’s rigid posture made him back down. It didn’t matter what either of them wanted. Only what the alien did.

“It’s been noise, noise, always noise since you got here! How am I supposed to relax? Having another person with me all the time is exhausting!”

Tony also thought it was exhausting, but more for the inconveniences and the needless limitations such as his inability to visit his own workshop or to fetch coffee without asking Stephen pretty please. With a sudden clarity, he realised he overall didn’t care if Stephen was engaging him or not. He could work and talk just fine, unless the job was ultra sensitive or a secret. Rhodey and Pepper came over all the time, as well as the other avengers, and he wasn’t terribly bothered. But for Stephen, who needed excessive amounts of silence, to have someone dropped into his life must be like experiencing a nuclear explosion going off. Stephen had been reading so still that Tony hardly noticed he was there, unless it was time for a break.

He heard Stephen’s elevated breath, saw his chest making fast shallow movements. His hands clutched the book in a death-like grip.

“Hey, I got it, I got it. I’ll be quiet.” Tony rose his hands in surrender. He stilled his foot. The desire to tap itched his ankle. Wow this was harder than he thought. “I’ve been looking for some light reading. You got any recommendations?”

“I read magic-related tomes,” Stephen said in a clipped voice, eyes narrowed in suspicion. “About certain parasites.”

Tony tried to not let Stephen’s response affect him. Yes, Tony inhaled an alien but Tony did _not_ piss off Stephen this time. He hoped his face didn’t show how much it stung. “Do you have an introductory text I could borrow?”

Stephen waved a hand and a book fell out of a tiny portal in front of Tony.

“Thanks.”

Tony proceeded to read. Control that foot. Control— He saw from the corner of his eyes that Stephen was looking at him with a tight face, but Tony pretended not to notice. Eventually, whatever was eating Stephen had eased up, and he only occasionally glanced at Tony, until finally he was buried in his own book.

An hour later, Stephen’s gaze had drifted up to the ceiling, and he was gently biting the flesh of his hand. His eyebrows were scrunched up and Tony automatically reached out, desperately wanting to— Tony’s hand hovered over Stephen’s shoulder, the words on the tip of his tongue—

Tony swallowed and withdrew his hand back towards himself. Helplessness roiled in his chest as he watched Stephen.

Stephen didn’t want to be touched right then. Or talked to. This wasn’t like their first night in Tony’s lab when Stephen was about to leave. No, this was subtler. The only way to help Stephen… was if Tony disappeared.

Tony dropped his pretence of reading—he wasn’t buying into this chakras business—and feigned sleep, while his stomach churned and twisted. God damn, Tony was better than this. Never in his life did he envision being the cause of Stephen’s pain—

What other issues would arise out of this arrangement? Stephen nearly panicked over getting him to stop tapping. Stephen could tolerate someone tapping in a class or during a meal, but when it was within twelve inches of him, tapping constantly?

Tony just hoped the rest of the issues would be somewhat manageable like this one. He could’ve done so much more than feign sleep, hated himself for withdrawing, but Stephen… _needed_ this.

Damn.

Honestly, nothing could get worse than him and Stephen having to share a bathroom. No one deserved having to endure that level of awkwardness and lack of privacy. Tony didn’t dare crack a joke for the possibility that Stephen would kill him. Tony thought the daily indignities would drive an irreparable wedge between them, but Tony didn’t find that to be the case, at least not in his own mind. His respect for Stephen grew, that after the initial fight, Stephen voiced his complaints once, after which he didn’t mention them again, and just put up with the stuff that couldn’t be helped. Oh, they both came up with small practical ways to make living easier, but there was only so much either of them could implement living a foot away from each other.

And true to Stephen’s word, he didn’t bail.

No matter how often the desire became visible on his face.

  

***

 

Tony drew a fat black line over the latest bug extraction plan. Subjecting himself to cryofreeze wouldn’t fix it, he tried freezing, and he didn’t trust the future to be developed enough to extract the bug when he woke, or that his frozen corpse wouldn’t be mugged by someone to build another nefarious weapon. Or waking up to find that technology had passed him by, that his skills became obsolete, made Tony shudder. Tony Stark _was_ the future.

He wanted to scrunch up the paper and throw it across the room to the overflowing rubbish bin. But Stephen was edgy lately, and instead, Tony gripped his own head and lowered it until his forehead touched the table. He allowed two seconds of self-pity before he reluctantly straightened in his chair. He couldn’t give Stephen the impression that he didn’t have everything under control. Because he totally did. Just not at that moment.

The thought of Stephen made him look to his left, where Stephen sat reading in a chair, face tired and eyes heavy. More like slouched in a chair, the book propped on his chest, gaze unfocused. He hadn’t heard Stephen flip pages for a while, but Tony accounted that to the complex diagram that covered half the spread. Stephen stayed up even though he had a full day, then dealt with an emergency of one of their students missing, and now sat up, so Tony had access to the table. Stephen looked a little more red and a bit more lethargic than usual, but Tony didn’t pay it much mind. Tony would press any advantage he could, he certainly wouldn’t tell Stephen he should be sleeping.

Stephen looked at him from his stupor, and their gazes met. Stephen’s steady grey-blue eyes held his, deep, no judgement or expectation, simply existing. No words or snide comments or quips. Tony’s statements died in his throat. An ache swelled inside Tony and he looked away, his mouth suddenly dry. He pretended to work, and after a while, Stephen returned to his book. But Tony was hyper-aware he was there, sitting only a foot away. Another living, breathing—

The urge to call Pepper nearly choked him in his seat. He realised he had pulled out his phone and pressed dial, but somehow missed the button and was staring at her profile photo, wishing it would speak.

“Do you mind if I…?” The sudden tightness made it hard to speak. A month ago Tony wouldn’t have bothered asking. But living with Stephen everyday taught him how much the man valued silence, needed it to survive. The Tony Stark of a month ago would’ve banged and tapped and whistled, and the look on Stephen’s face would’ve given him great vibes for a week. But now, he was tired, Stephen was tired, everyone was tired, and knowing how much time Stephen spent overseeing other people, how his meditation was constantly interrupted by emergencies, how often he sighed when someone called his name, needing his input into some urgent Sanctum business...

Stephen waved a hand. “Go ahead.” He sounded exhausted.

Tony swallowed and pressed the phone to his ear. Pepper picked up on the fifth ring. “Tony? Is everything okay?” He heard noise, the sound of chatter and clinking glasses in the background. Was she at a party? God what he’d give to be there, rather than be stuck with one silent, grumpy, self-sacrificing, gorgeous and wiped-out wizard. Tony’s chest tightened again. He’d offer to take Stephen to a party if he hadn’t already known that partying was the furthest thing Stephen wanted to do right then.

“Yeah, I just wanna—”

“I’m in the middle of a very important dinner to secure that customer we’ve been talking about for weeks,” she whispered. “Can I call you later?”

Something broke in Tony’s chest, but he quickly put a cap on the feeling. He put on his best smile, knowing she could tell if he lied. “Yeah, Pep, anytime is fine.”

The line was silent for a second, only the sound of guests talking in the background. “Tony, is everything okay?” She repeated, voice measured, concerned.

He wanted to take the opportunity, to tell her why he called, but the mood was wrong. She was busy, running his business while he was prancing around, eating vegetarian food in Nepal. The tightness returned so hard he could hardly speak. “Yeah, Pep, I’m good.” He was glad his voice came out smoother than he expected. “Go secure that deal. I’ll call you later.” He hung up before she could say anything else.

He stared at the phone, the chasm in his chest growing, threatening to plunge him into an abyss of something he didn’t want to deal with in front of Stephen. God, he needed a drink. Something strong to knock him out.

“You ready to go to bed?” Stephen asked.

Tony chuckled at the request, momentarily distracted from his crisis. “Yes, dear,” he said in a falsetto voice.

Stephen rolled his eyes. “Come on.”

Tony brushed his teeth, showered—Stephen was a night showerer, more than one time Tony woke to Stephen shaking him awake due to an early-morning emergency—peed, Tony would never forget Stephen’s outrage the first time they shared a loo, having caught Tony peeking over his shoulder; dressed into pyjamas and climbed into bed, all within a foot of Stephen. A foot that somehow felt like a baseball field, or the distance between East Coast and the West. The sun and the moon. Earth and the entire fucking universe.

“You want to talk about it?” Stephen asked from the darkness.

Tony’s ache returned with a vengeance, and he found it hard to lay still, his chest rising and falling with barely suppressed tremors. “There’s not much to talk about,” he said.

“She couldn’t take the call,” Stephen said, voice even, no pity or any kind of inflection there.

Tony found he couldn’t answer. He breathed through his mouth, hoping that if he did it slowly Stephen wouldn’t hear.

Then suddenly, an arm wrapped around him and pulled him close, not quite into Stephen but enough to wrap around him comfortably.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Tony grabbed the arm, careful not to press too hard on Stephen’s hand or forearm, trying to lift it off.

Instead, Stephen pulled him closer, so that Tony’s back brushed against Stephen’s side. Tony jolted, the feel of Stephen’s body against his sending every nerve ending on fire, while simultaneously making the demons quiet and scream so loud his ears pounded. His breathing hitched, and if he wasn’t sure before, Stephen definitely heard him now.

For a few moments, he let himself be held. Stephen definitely felt him shake, wrapped around him as he was. The tightness pressed, screeching in his mind, pushing at his throat so hard he couldn’t think. He took a painful breath, stilled as much as he could, hands at his face, glad his back faced Stephen so Stephen couldn’t see him. A single phrase tore through his carefully constructed defences, on its own accord, the Herculean force of his will not enough to keep it inside.

“I messed up.”

It was like a dam finally burst, the admission sending a wave of agony through his body. He messed up. He messed up bad. He wasn’t the amazing genius he thought he was. If he was, he’d have solved his own problem. Extracted the alien, got rid of Strange, something. He’d have made Pepper talk to him instead of doing some stupid deal no one cared about. He’d have flipped Stephen the finger instead of leaning into Stephen’s touch, letting Stephen pull him closer, Tony’s back to Stephen’s chest, both arms wrapped around Tony. Tony wouldn’t have clutched to Stephen’s arms like his life depended on it. And Tony definitely wouldn’t have found comfort in hearing Stephen’s voice, wishing he had more contact, wishing their shirts weren’t in the way.

“Tony, you’re the most brilliant mind I know, you’ll figure out a way to get that thing out of your brain.”

“Yet you refuse to turn time on me and make it so that the alien was never stuck in my brain to begin with.” Tony hated how his voice came out shaky. Not Tony Stark at all. “That eye around your neck, did you think I wouldn’t find out?”

Stephen sighed. “No, Tony, time-manipulation would create terrible consequences for you.”

“More terrible than being whacked with pain each time you walk away?” Tony hated the venomous way he said it, but he couldn’t help himself.

Stephen’s chin rested on top of Tony’s head. “Yes, more terrible than that. You could be looping in time forever, alone, unable to effect anything.”

Tony bit his lips. He buried his face further into Stephen’s arms.

“I could’ve restored my hands,” Stephen suddenly said, “but I don’t. Time isn’t a kind master. The times I used it… were more important than my life. Or even multiple lives. We won’t get lucky over something like this. People aren’t meant to be turned back, Tony. That eye isn’t a fix-it-all.”

He hummed as Tony held back tears. Tony didn’t shoo Stephen away, because he couldn’t.

“You’ll find the answer, Tony. Until then, I’ll stay with you. You won’t be in pain, understand?”

No, Tony didn’t understand. He failed. Spectacularly. He had tried _everything_. Well, he did disintegrate a sample by burning out an entire ark-reactor into a single energy pulse, but unfortunately that’d disintegrate Tony’s head as well. He’d carried the bug for two months; five weeks since he had moved in with Stephen. The alien didn’t rank people or speak to Tony anymore. SHIELD were just as silent. A bunch of dead-ends.

“Say… say that again?” Tony pleaded. He hated how cracked his voice was.

“I’ll stay with you,” Stephen whispered, bunching Tony closer. “I won’t let you be in pain. So what if you’ve ran out of the easy answers? Only a dick would punish you for genuinely trying. You’re annoying but you aren’t malicious, and that’s good enough for me.” Stephen took a deep breath. “I know things seem low from your perspective, but I believe in you. You got what it takes to extract it. You aren’t… you aren’t a bother to me.”

Tony shook harder. He didn’t want to, but the things Stephen said—

“You can do it, Tony.”

Somehow, against all logic…

Tony believed him.


	7. Chapter 7

Slowly, Tony opened his eyes. The world was a lazy blue-grey blur, the mattress and pillow so comfortable against Tony's chest and face that he closed his eyes and burrowed deeper into the bedding, snuggling the comforter close. This early-morning decadence was strange, pun intended, but oh so welcome. Tony never got to sleep in. Normally, Stephen was up in an ungodly hour shaking him awake so they could hurry to the monitoring the universe room. Please excuse Tony if he wasn’t particularly enthusiastic to wake up.

Last night crashed on Tony and he covered his face with his hands. Shit. He hadn’t meant to break down like that. Now Stephen knew. Tony didn’t know how he’d face the sorcerer. The only person who’d seen him like that was Rhodey, and even then Tony avoided him for months afterwards. But Tony was stuck to Stephen, unable to walk away. Stephen, who held him last night until the worst of Tony’s shakes had died down. Nothing sexual had happened; Tony was too full of self-loathing to even attempt. He couldn’t face Stephen now, not today and definitely not tomorrow. Which brought him back to wondering how did he manage to wake up on his own when Stephen usually marshalled him to the bathroom within a minute of consciousness, like a drill sergeant marched some poor army kids.

Tony turned, trying to come up with something to say to defuse what had happened last night, when he realised Stephen was sleeping. _What?_ Sunlight streamed through the window onto Stephen's bed-hair, making the short black strands reflect in all sorts of beautiful hazel shades. Tony couldn’t see Stephen’s expression since Stephen had curled up against the wall. Yet something was wrong. Tony sat up, unable to shake his unease. Tony was glad for the much needed sleep-in but Stephen’s sudden lack of care about his job made him frown. He wasn’t aware today was a holiday.

“Hey Stephen.” Tony shook him. “You gonna watch the universe today?”

Stephen groaned, and Tony realised Stephen felt hot, hotter than usual. Stephen turned towards him. His face was a splotchy red colour, grey eyes unclear. “Let me be,” Stephen said with difficulty, his deep voice sounding laboured and weak. He closed his eyes and laid still.

Tony scratched his head, unsure of what he should do. All those late nights and chasing magical emergencies must have finally caught up to Stephen. “Come on, Stephen, we gotta get you some medical attention and something to eat. Come on.” He helped Stephen put on socks— _ridiculous_ —and slung Stephen's arms through his bathrobe sleeves to make Stephen look somewhat presentable, then dragged him to the monitoring room, where the Chinese man still stood, and through another door towards the mess hall, one arm wrapped around Stephen’s waist, the other clutching Stephen’s arm over Tony’s shoulder. Stephen was in no condition to open a portal; his feet barely lifted off the stone floor.

Where was that magical cloak when Tony needed it? He would have _words_ with it about abandoning Stephen when Stephen required its assistance. Come to think of it, it had also let Stephen duke it out with Tony on their first night, letting Tony tackle Stephen to the ground. Tony shook his head. Now wasn't the time to become an expert on magical cloaks. Someone should be able to help Stephen once they reached the mess.

“I can do my duties just fine, Wong,” Stephen said, seated on a cushion on the floor with Tony on one side and stone-faced Wong on the other. Stephen looked much better after a meal, some clarity returning to his eyes. Tony couldn’t tell what Wong, Stephen’s right-hand man, thought about Tony being tied to Stephen’s hip, or about Tony’s stay at the Sanctum in general. Thankfully no one had tried to kick him out. Tony had heard that Stephen used to teach lessons in the afternoons before Tony came. He began to wonder if Stephen ever rested.

“No,” was the only thing Wong said.

“Oh come on, all I have to do is sit and meditate. I won’t dispatch myself if you like.”

“Stephen, you’re sick. Sick people stay in bed.”

Stephen directed his feverish gaze at Wong, like he couldn’t believe what he heard. “Please.”

Tony sat this one out. Let the wizards organise themselves. Although he hoped Stephen would see reason. The sorcerer was in no condition to fight.

“Stephen, I order you to spend the day in bed,” Wong said, leaving no room for an argument. “You’d endanger everyone here if you take your responsibilities to the universe while not fully coherent. Let Stark look after you.”

Tony shot Wong a look, but the man’s face was deadpan.

“Come on, Stephen, admit you’re beat,” Tony said, ignoring the 'looking after' comment. “You can barely stand. There’s gotta be other sorcerers who can take your duties for a day. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but the universe needs you to get better. So focus on doing that.”

Stephen’s eyebrows jumped half-way through his forehead. He sent Tony a bewildered look, grey eyes dull compared to their usual intensity. It was like they were coated in a thick film. Tony didn’t like it at all.

“Careful, Stark. It almost sounded like you care,” Stephen said.

 _That_ was the Stephen he knew. “Shut up. I just don’t want to haul your limping ass in my suit all day. Hurry up so you can walk on your own.”

Tony knew it was a thin excuse and that Stephen knew that he knew. The sorcerer’s lips quirked up. “All right,” he said resigned.

Stephen fell asleep, full of fever reducing drugs, and all Tony could do was lay in bed all day. He could still work, sketching new designs that had accumulated in his mind, writing little bits of code or formulas, catching up on the latest research in brain surgery and his own fields. He hadn’t realised how much his mind needed a break from hitting the same dead-end problem. Sometimes you just had to walk away, do something else, and come back, a lesson Stephen was learning the hard way. Stephen continued to doze, red lines imprinted on his face from where it pressed onto the pillow, lips parted. He didn’t look very mighty right then. Tony realised he’d never seen Stephen’s face when he slept; the sorcerer was always turned away from him or woke up earlier than him. Seeing him reduced to a feverish drug-induced haze made Stephen look… surprisingly fragile. Not a word Tony had ever associated with Stephen before. The man was too stubborn and sure of himself to be vulnerable.

Stephen’s grey eyes opened. He swallowed laboriously.

“Come on, drink.” Tony helped Stephen sit up and brought a glass of water to his lips. “Staying hydrated will make you feel better.”

He helped Stephen hold the glass. The sorcerer’s hands shook too much otherwise.

Stephen drank, and when done, Tony helped him to lay back down.

“Thanks, Tony,” Stephen said, eyes sliding closed. He was out like a light.

Tony found himself looking out the window, one hand pressed over his mouth, while the other gently combed through Stephen's hair. That thanks replayed over and over in his mind, far more than it should.

 

****

 

Stephen jerked from his trance standing at the octagonal pillar, eyes wide as his gaze locked with Tony's.

Tony shut his work with a swipe over the tablet, setting the device on the ground. This occurrence was common enough that Tony wasn't phased by it anymore.

It had been two weeks since Stephen got sick. Tony hadn’t looked at Stephen the same way since. Tony couldn’t put a finger on it, but suddenly Stephen seemed...approachable. Like Stephen wasn’t made of stone and mortar anymore, and got ill like everyone else. 

_Well duh,_ but sometimes it was hard to remember. 

Tony stood in front of Stephen, grabbed the sorcerer's belt and nodded. "Ready when you are."

Stephen opened a portal into their bedroom instead.

"Huh?" Tony said as Stephen stepped into the room.

"Your disruptor, where is it?" Stephen asked, lifting half-finished projects off the table and settling them atop Stephen's books in a haphazard pile.

"Oh no no no, Stephen, put that down. Here, give me that," Tony said, taking the delicate machinery off Stephen's hands. Some of that technology wasn't yet touch-friendly. Stephen knew to keep his hands off certain projects when he was in his right mind, but not right then, it seemed. Tony quickly pulled out the disruptor from beneath a box he used as a stand for another project. "Ta-da!"

Stephen looked relieved as he grabbed the device. "Good. Let's go."

The others had already arrived by the time Tony and Stephen stepped out of a portal. The ground was black and dead, the beautiful fruit trees completely destroyed. They'd landed in someone's orchard, amid rows and rows of still green plum and apricot trees. The hippo had utterly levelled the field for good twenty meters in each direction, so there was plenty of space to take down that thing. The sorcerers had already cast a mirror dimension or whatever that alternate reality was called, so that the being couldn't harm anything else.

"Hey, Stephen—" Tony began, about to warn the sorcerer to not fly away like the first time. He turned to Stephen and his heart stopped.

A red slit-like portal had opened behind Stephen. Tony watched in slow motion as a two-inch-thick black tentacle whipped around Stephen's neck, before Tony could say anything. More tentacles wrapped around Stephen’s arms and legs. Stephen's frightened gaze met Tony's as the thing lifted Stephen off his feet, about to drag him inside— 

Without thinking, Tony lashed at the portal with his bare hands, before his ironman suit fully activated. Tony's fingers dug into something squishy and sinew. He couldn't see nor cared what it was. He hoped it was something vital and painful. He clutched a fistful of it and ripped it out. 

The thing screeched. Black blood burst in a spray out of the portal, splashing Tony’s chest-plate, face and arms, and dribbled onto his knees. Tony hardy registered, adrenaline pumping through his body. His ironman suit fully enclosed and he blasted the tentacle off Stephen's neck with a repulsor. The thing slacked, and Stephen broke free of its limbs.

Tony grabbed Stephen's shoulder. “You okay?”

Tony's gaze roamed over Stephen for injuries. Stephen's neck had gone red from where the alien had near strangled him, his breathing puffed but otherwise he seemed unharmed. _Thank goodness._ Tony nearly sagged to the floor. Tony’s fingers burned to trace over the junction of Stephen's neck and shoulder, to make sure he was truly okay. However, the battle wasn't over. Now wasn’t the time.

Tony’s arms, face and neck itched where the thing had splashed him, but that could wait for now.

Stephen portalled the disruptor on top of the hippo, and with its shield down, began to cast the banishing spell. The hippo destroyed, the other sorcerers quickly dispatched of all the tentacle monsters and closed all the portals. This wasn't the hippo’s first visit either, more like the third. Why did these creatures keep coming back?

Tony turned to Stephen, his heart doing a strange flappity-thing now that Stephen was safe. The urge to touch him was overwhelming. With the threat over, Tony released the suit.

Suddenly, pain was everywhere. Tony's arms, face and knees burned with the most vicious digging he'd ever felt. It felt like the substance tried to claw its way inside, through Tony's skin and bone. Tony collapsed, grabbing onto Stephen's waist to keep himself from falling completely.

Stephen caught his shoulders with a cry of alarm. “Tony! Tony!” Stephen lifted Tony's face, but Tony was in too much pain to stand.

“Stephen, it hurts.” Tony clutched weakly at Stephen’s arms.

Tony felt a moment of weightlessness and then Stephen lifted him up bridal style. Tony leaned his head against Stephen's chest, not having enough air to complain, pain burrowing through his arms and face. He was dimly aware of Stephen carrying him through a portal.

“Sleep,” Stephen whispered, his breath ghosting Tony's temple. Tony’s eyes closed. The battle was over; everyone was safe. Stephen knew what to do.

 

****

 

Tony woke up in bed in the sanctum. The first thing he saw were his bandaged arms, resting on two pillows on either side of him. His legs were raised as well but only the area near his upper knees was bandaged. He felt a cool compress on his cheeks, forehead and neck. He saw a bag of fluids attached to his arm. A blanket covered his naked chest and thighs, leaving his arms and legs exposed. He was dressed in just a pair of underwear. Some sort of gel glistened on the skin adjacent to the bandages. He groaned, a dull ache seeping into his skin. It felt like his skin was melting. Unbearably hot, like a scorching shower. He wanted to turn it off.

“Tony, you’re okay. You’re safe now.” Stephen was next to him in an instant, carefully guiding Tony's arms back onto the pillows. “It might be better if you don’t move. You got splashed with acid. It was really mild but you got burns on your arms and face. They’ll heal with no lasting effects. You got lucky it wasn’t something more concentrated. That was very brave of you." Stephen's voice quietened. "Thank you.”

Tony looked at Stephen leaning over him on the bed. Stephen's neck was back to its lovely creamy hue, no signs that he’d been nearly dragged to his death into another dimension. His hands didn't appear more hurt than from his past surgery. But his eyes… those grey-blues gazed at Tony boldly, yet gently, as if Stephen saw right through him to something even Tony refused to acknowledge inside himself. Tony resisted the urge to hide under the blanket. Stephen was okay, that's all that mattered. Tony wouldn’t be in pain from Stephen abandoning him. Tony had no idea what would have happened if Stephen had died. Would he have been in pain for eternity? Or would the alien have made him look for another One? Tony didn’t want to chance finding out. His reaction had been instantaneous; he hadn't had time to think what would or wouldn’t happen. Stephen was in danger. Protecting him was all that mattered.

“You okay?” Tony rasped. His throat was shot to shit.

Stephen procured a glass from the bedside table. “Here, let me help you drink some electrolytes.”

Tony flinched as Stephen helped him sit up. He was on some sort of mild pain relief, that he hardly felt the ache until he moved his injured limbs. Stephen’s eyebrows scrunched in apology.

Stephen brought the glass with a see-through blue liquid to his lips. “Drink this. It’ll make you feel better.”

Tony drank, the liquid soothing his dry throat. He felt he could breathe more normally. “How long was I out?”

“Not long, about two and a half hours. It’s still light outside.” Stephen refilled the glass.

That’s two and a half hours of being completely defenceless. Tony buried that thought. There was nothing he could do about it. “Shouldn’t you be back at the monitoring station? Saving the universe and all that?” Tony drank another glass, wincing as he tried to sit straighter. Stephen put more pillows behind his back. Huh? Tony didn’t remember them having that many pillows.

“Someone else is taking care of that. You rest.”

“But—” Tony began.

“Shh, it’s taken care of. You heal, okay?”

Tony frowned, and quickly stopped as it pulled at his skin. “I can’t ask you to give up your job for me. I know how important it is to you. I can take it.”

“I know you can.” Stephen settled Tony’s limbs back down. “But I don’t want you to. The universe is not abandoned. Rest.”

Tony had one more rebuke ready on his tongue when Stephen gently touched the tip of his fingers to Tony’s lips, silencing him. “No more arguments. Bed rest. Doctor’s orders.”

He could still rest on a cot next to Stephen while Stephen worked with the universe. But when Stephen pried his fingers away from Tony’s lips, Tony didn’t say anything. Stephen’s eyes shone with a depth that made Tony uncomfortable. Tony swallowed and looked at a wall.

Stephen lied back down next to him, reaching for a large tome. “If there’s anything else you need, let me know. Until then, rest.”

“Okay.”

Tony lasted the whole of two minutes before he was out of his mind with boredom. He watched his own thoughts form patterns and envisioned his own demise if he didn’t have something to engage with. Or someone.

“You got a TV or something?" Tony asked. "I can’t use my hands which severely limits what I can do to amuse myself.”

Stephen looked up from his book. “Unfortunately, we don’t have any TVs. They distract from the training and the discipline. I can get you a book.”

Tony didn’t think he could hold a book with the ache he was feeling in his fingers. “You don’t have anything I’d like to read anyway.”

Stephen smirked. Honest to god smirked. Tony wasn’t sure how to take it.

“Then you don’t know me very well.” Stephen waved a hand and a new book appeared out of a portal. It was compact compared to what Stephen was reading earlier, and very thick. Maybe 600 pages. The cover was white and grey, and Tony realised the front depicted a specially-geared soldier. “Ice Station by Matthew Reilly.” Stephen grinned. “I bet you haven’t read this one.”

“I don’t have time for fiction,” Tony said. He still had a pile of books Rhodey and Pepper had gifted him over the years, unread. He never heard of that author before. He tried reaching out but lowered his arms when the pain got uncomfortable.

“I’ll read it to you,” Stephen said.

Tony swallowed. There was that look again. “You don’t have to. I’m sure there’s an audiobook version of it.”

Stephen put a hand on Tony’s chest and Tony trembled. He stared into Stephen’s eyes as the sorcerer leaned closer. “Scared my voice would do something to you?” Stephen said.

Tony’s breathing caught in his throat. “You’re making my blood sky-rocket, Doc. I can feel myself overheating already.”

Stephen laughed. He leaned away, regaining a reasonable distance. Tony tried to squash the sudden sense of loss he felt. What the fuck? First it was too much and now not enough. He must be going crazy after all.

Stephen began to read, and before long, Tony was deeply engrossed in the story. A US marine squad was versing French soldiers while trying to figure out what had killed the scientists underwater beneath the Ice Station. Then British soldiers came and the Marines were trapped, until one of the walkways collapsed and a ten-year-old girl was left hanging by the bent handrail above a killer-whale infested pool where the whales had just torn a soldier to shreds.

“Come on!” Tony groaned, the improbability of the scenario finally getting to him. “A girl is hanging by the hand above a pool of sharks and the handrail is bending under her weight. As if that would ever happen.”

Stephen grinned. “But the author makes it sound plausible, doesn’t he? The pool was there. The killer whales were there, eating the penguins who took refuge beneath the station sometimes. The girl was there, visiting her mother, hiding. And the explosion made the walkway burst. So it all makes kind of sense.”

“I know! And that’s what annoys me.” Tony wanted to rub his forehead but resisted. “It’s so over the top I can’t believe half of it.”

“But it’s gripping, isn’t it?”

Tony groaned. “Stop it with the terrible puns.”

Stephen looked at him blankly for a moment, then realised what Tony had meant. “Ooh, gripping. Like the girl gripping. Sorry, didn’t mean it that way.”

Tony shook his head. “All right, what happens next? The girl better be saved or that author will never publish anything ever again.”

“That’s harsh. Let the author write whatever he wants.” Stephen grinned. Tony knew Stephen got him right where he wanted. He grudgingly admitted Stephen’s tactic had worked. He hadn't thought he’d be a fan of action thrillers but Stephen picked a story that was somehow appealing. Or maybe it was Stephen’s voice that added the extra dimension to the words that made them seem so much more than mere sound or ideas. That wonderful timbre, clear and strong and so _Stephen_ , made Tony’s thoughts settle in peace. Hours passed and he was so absorbed listening to Stephen he hadn't noticed night had fallen until Stephen stopped to accept the dinner that was brought into their room. He couldn’t remember ever laying still for so long without fiddling with something, unless he was passed out from drugs.

“Let’s sit up again so I can feed you.” Stephen helped him sit, Tony wincing slightly. Tony blushed as Stephen held a spoon in front of his face. “Do you want me to ‘say ahh’ or are you gonna cooperate?” There was a glint of mischievousness in Stephen’s eyes.

Wow, he had never seen Stephen so playful. Maybe knowing Tony couldn’t retaliate lowered some of Stephen’s inhibitions. It was embarrassing, Tony could eat on his own with some minor discomfort. But what the hell. Stephen was playing a nurse to him. When would Tony ever get another chance? Being seen as macho suddenly didn’t seem as important. He smiled and opened his mouth obediently. Let’s see how far Stephen would go. Tony would definitely enjoy this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus:
> 
> Tony tried to make the offending cabbage-shaped green vegetable disintegrate from Stephen’s fork with his stare. Why did the meals always include Brussels sprouts? Of all the vegetables grown in hell…
> 
> “Come on, Tony, it’s the final piece. Open wide.”
> 
> Tony pursed his lips and turned his head. No way. Nothing could convince him to eat that. Not even Stephen. Tony had standards.
> 
> “Please?”
> 
> Tony turned his head even further.
> 
> “Say aah.”
> 
> Tony whipped towards Stephen. Did he seriously say that?
> 
> Stephen barely held back laughter behind his lips. His eyes were crinkled at the corners. “I’ll say it one more time.” Stephen burst into a giggle, which he tried to cover up with a cough. A giggle! He schooled his face back into serious, barely holding back a grin. “Say ahh.”
> 
> For a moment Tony just stared, wondering if he was in a dream or in a beautiful alternate reality. But no, it was just Stephen playing dirty. How could Tony hope to resist that? He was so screwed.
> 
> “Fiiiiiiine.” He parted his lips, and Stephen didn’t hesitate to deposit the sprout. Tony grimaced as he chewed the final piece.
> 
> “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
> 
> Tony begged to differ, quickly swallowing the yucky taste. “Maybe you could help me chase it down with a kiss.”
> 
> Stephen rose an eyebrow. “That bold?”
> 
> Tony jutted out his chin, daring Stephen to do it.
> 
> Stephen leaned down, his lips hoovering over Tony’s. Tony gasped, not expecting Stephen to actually—! Tony’s heart rate went somewhere into the cardiac arrest range—
> 
> “I came to— Oh god!” Someone quickly left the room. “Dude, the door’s open!”
> 
> Stephen drew back. He sent Tony an apologetic look. “Sorry!” He said loud for the other person to hear. “You can come in.”
> 
> Tony wanted to cover his steaming face as an apprentice picked up the dishes. He didn’t want to cover himself from embarrassment; but because of the agony of the lost chance. He wanted to blast the apprentice’s head off with a repulsor. That’s how mad he was. Alas, it wasn’t really the apprentice’s fault. It was the rotten timing. He couldn’t believe Stephen had actually—
> 
> “Would you like to continue the Ice Station?” Stephen asked, carefully avoiding looking at him. Stephen’s cheeks were tinged pink. His hands shook a touch stronger than usual.
> 
> Tony really wanted to continue something else. But the mood was broken, and he’d rather not push when Stephen was jittery. He’d never find out if Stephen was joking or was actually going to— “Please,” Tony said.
> 
> But Stephen was right. Brussels sprouts weren't so terrible when Stephen grinned at him like that. He’d eat a ton more vegetables if he could get Stephen to smile.
> 
> And maybe more…


	8. Chapter 8

Stephen frowned as he peeled back the bed covers. He dragged Tony over to the wardrobe and threw open its doors. “Have you seen the cloak?” Stephen asked as his gaze roamed over coats and suit jackets.

It’s been two weeks since the acid splash thing. True to Stephen’s words, Tony’s burns had completely healed. The worst day was the second after Stephen began to nurse him, when Tony’s limbs had swelled to an unbelievable degree, and Stephen had to increase Tony’s medication as the persistent pain got nearly unbearable. Tony's face and arms had felt branded with iron. He was burning, a human furnace, feverish like Stephen was a few weeks ago, even through the cold compresses. His fever wasn’t a virus though, but his own body deregulating because of the heat. It sucked. It really did. 

There was a dark reddish pattern engraved onto Tony's back now. The acid must have dribbled down from his neck along the seams of his armour. The stains were oddly symmetrical and made his back look like an African tribal tattoo. It looked… rather interesting. Tony would never have gotten something like that. He remembered Stephen’s worried gaze when Tony had first caught sight of it in the bathroom mirror. Stephen couldn’t treat those burns as well as the others because Tony had laid on them most of the time. His back hadn’t scarred, just burned that incredible pattern into him. Tony rather liked it. Stephen had closed his eyes, a look of pained relief on his face when Tony had told him.

“I haven’t seen your floating pet,” Tony said. “Are you sure it’s not behind your back?”

Stephen patted around his shoulders and scowled. The fact that Stephen hadn’t corrected him about the cloak being a ‘powerful magical artefact that’s older than you’, meant Stephen was losing his shit. “It should’ve been here by now,” Stephen said.

Tony smiled. “What do you mean? Do you take it on regular walks or something?” Stephen didn’t take it on walks, but it was fun to poke at him.

Stephen gripped the bridge of his nose in annoyance. “I haven’t seen it since we returned from breakfast.”

Tony noticed this too. Usually, by now, the cloak either stood itself in the empty corner, which was creepy as fuck, clipped itself over Stephen’s shoulders, which Tony swore Stephen wasn’t noticing anymore, or draped itself over their comforter in preparation for the night. Sometimes it hoovered next to Tony, and Tony had an uncanny feeling the thing was studying him. More than once, he woke up with it patting his head. After dinner time, Stephen always left the door slightly ajar so the cloak could shove itself in from whatever adventure it’s been having. It stayed on Stephen during the monitoring, but tended to wander on and off during the free time. Tony complained how cold it was because of drafts, but Stephen told him to suck it up and offered him a jumper. _Tempting._ Tony would have loved to see Stephen wear something of Tony’s too. Regardless, the cloak was usually in the room before 8pm.

“You want to go search for it or something?” Tony said. Stephen wouldn’t settle down otherwise.

Stephen looked mournfully at the door. “Not yet. Maybe it’ll return any second.”

The clock struck nine. Stephen lowered his book and fixed Tony with a miserable look. Tony didn’t think Stephen had meant to show him that. Stephen grabbed Tony’s hand and gently guided him into corridor.

No cloak.

Stephen made a pitiful noise like a mouse dying. Tony didn’t think the sorcerer had meant to do that either. The accompanying expression still took Tony off guard.

“I hope it didn’t get itself into trouble,” Stephen said.

Tony touched Stephen’s elbow. _Stephen, it’s a cloak, it can handle itself_ , Tony wanted to say, but he held his tongue.

“Boss,” Friday piped up from across the room. “We have… an intruder. How would you like to proceed?”

Tony pulled up the security feed on his tablet. Friday wouldn’t have called him for a simple trespasser. Tony had gotten enough of those to know Friday could handle them.

What he saw made his eyebrows shoot somewhere into his hairline. “Stephen.” He turned the tablet towards the sorcerer. “Care to explain why your cloak is breaking into my house?”

 

***

 

Tony stepped into his Malibu workshop, Stephen close behind him. The sight before him was something out of a movie. Three iron man suits wrestled the cloak, one suit at each end and the third clutching it around the middle. Despite the suits' combined power, the cloak writhed and slightly lifted the suits off the floor. Holy crap that’s one powerful cloak—those older suits were heavy. Tony made a mental note to _not_ underestimate the cloak next time.

The cloak froze when it saw them, and... trembled. There was no other way Tony could describe the motion.

Soon he understood why. Scattered on the floor not too far away, was the smashed drawer from the alien ship. Broken golden pens littered all over the gooey floor.

Stephen stepped toward the cloak. "Release it!"

"Stop!" Tony pulled Stephen back by the belt. Just below, a prawn alien desperately tried to latch on to Stephen's shoe.

Stephen made a startled sound. Tony saw the scene with a sudden, dark clarity. Dozens of those prawny things wriggled on the floor. All it would take was a tiny push forward. Tony… wouldn’t be the only one in pain if one of them walked away. Stephen would finally know what’s it like to be tethered to another.

But just as the thought came, reason followed and Tony crushed the alien with his boot. “Get behind me, Doc,” Tony said. “It isn’t safe for you.”

As much as Tony wanted to give Stephen a taste of Tony’s medicine, infecting him wasn’t the way to do it. As Tony had said, he didn’t wish this pain on his worst enemy, and definitely not on Stephen.

Stephen took a tiny step back. An intelligent look came to his grey eyes, like he knew what Tony had thought. _Thank you_ , he seemed to say. 

Stephen’s gaze shifted to the cloak. "Release it. Your machines are damaging it.”

That was true. The cloak looked frayed around the edges, the lining and front coming undone.

"Hell no," Tony said, watching the three suits barely hold it down and the damaged ventilation shaft cover thrown across the room as if it had exploded. No living thing could’ve gotten through that shaft. "I’m not releasing the thing that broke into my house, destroyed my alien samples, and almost ko’d three suits. What’s it doing, Stephen?"

"How the hell should I know?” Stephen said. “It’s never done something like this. I don’t know what’s gotten into it."

The cloak stopped struggling and hung limply in the suits’ fists. It moved only slightly, and Tony had an uncanny feeling that it did the equivalent of catching its breath.

"Let it go, Tony. Whatever it tried to do, it won’t do it again. Right, Cloak?"

The cloak slumped even further, almost looking like normal drapery. It turned its collar away from them.

"Ha!" Tony grinned. The piece of cloth had an attitude. Even caught, it refused to back down. It had guts, and Tony had to give it some admiration for having gotten this far. If he didn’t have Friday, the cloak would’ve gotten away with the aliens.

Tony walked closer, squishing the still wriggling bugs. Most of them were already dead, but some were just crawling out of broken pens. The distance got larger and larger, until Tony stood at the full extent of his and Stephen’s outstretched arms. The necklace vibrated on Tony’s chest.

Tony held Stephen’s gaze. To his surprise, Tony saw none of the previous agitation. Stephen’s gaze deepened by the moment, measured, intense. _I trust you_ , Stephen seemed to convey. _Be careful._ Stephen’s grip on his hand softened to a caress.

Tony’s mouth opened to say something he’d regret. He would’ve said it, if he got past the lump in his throat to speak. When had Stephen learned to say so much with just a look? _Stop it_ , Tony begged, even as every cell in his body coursed with electricity. He couldn’t look away.

Slowly, Tony’s fingers slipped free from Stephen’s hand.

It didn’t hurt. The necklace vibrated, and it didn’t hurt.

Tony took another mini-step and had to stop. Pins and needles licked up his spine. Six feet. That was triple the previous distance. Wow, it was really something. Tony hadn’t realised how squished they’d been until then. He stood further from Stephen than they could touch. The freedom felt exalting.

Tony luxuriated in the feeling for a moment before he addressed the cloak: "What the heck do you want the aliens for?"

The cloak wriggled in panic as Tony snuck another inch forward.

"I’m not mad," Tony added, which was the truth. It destroyed about half his samples; he could still continue research without requesting additional samples from SHIELD. "I just want to know why they’re important to you. And let’s be honest, I’m not gonna damage you or that wizard there will rip me a new one. I’d let you go right now if I wasn’t so sure you’d bolt for that vent again. So, relax, I’m just gonna ask you some questions and then you’re free."

He couldn’t believe he was talking to the cloak like it was intelligent, but today’s stint changed everything he knew about the cloak. He couldn’t deny it had acted on its own, and not in the simplistic way that a cat or a dog would. It had a mission, to destroy the samples, if the force with which it had repeatedly smashed the box on top of the pens was any indication.

"Nod if you can understand me."

Tony saw Stephen frown from the corner of his eyes, arms crossed. The only reason Stephen hadn’t crossed the room and freed the cloak himself were the still wriggling aliens on the floor. Tony had about two minutes before the enraged sorcerer would stamp over and demand the cloak’s immediate release.

The cloak lifted its collar to him, and with what looked like a resigned movement, nodded.

Blood rushed into Tony’s head and he felt light-headed. He stared at the cloak, which seemed to be studying him back. He swallowed. "Did you intentionally break into my house?"

That was a given. Tony wanted to see if it lied.

The cloak nodded again.

A corner of Tony's mouth lifted. That thing had guts.

"Were you trying to kill the aliens?"

Another nod.

 _Interesting_.

"Do you know what the aliens do?"

Another nod. Slower this time.

Is that why it was patting him on the head? Did it know?

 _Why?_ He wanted to ask. But it wasn't a simple yes or no question.

"Can… can the alien be safely removed from my head?" He whispered.

It nodded.

"By surgery?"

For the first time, it shook its collar side to side.

Tony stepped back, head spinning. He had so many questions, but looking at the cloak, his frustration grew that he couldn't ask it all the why questions. He hit his fist into his palm as an idea came to him.

"Promise me you won't fly away, and I'll release you. And depending on what you say later, I might let you kill the rest of the aliens. But not now. Nod if you understand and agree."

It nodded.

"Friday?"

The suits let go.

The cloak instantly shot over to Stephen and clipped over his shoulders. Tony smirked as Stephen was nearly yanked to the floor, but regained footing at the last moment. Stephen whispered to it softly as he caressed its fabric like a pet. The thing wrapped around him briefly, before slacking to normal. The frayed edges began to slowly mend themselves.

Tony looked at the mess on the floor and could care less. His gaze zeroed on the cloak, who he swore shoved itself a little further behind Stephen's back.

"Stephen, I have a proposal."

"I'm not handing over the cloak." Stephen’s stormy gaze could have struck thunder.

Tony grinned. Stephen's loyalty was touching, really. "Oh, I have something better in mind."

 

***

 

"And this is letter is B. That's A and B. Can you write B?"

The cloak scribbled a very wobbly B onto the paper with a pencil clutched in the corner of its fabric. It eyed Stephen with its collar flopped, and Tony had a distinct impression it was trying to pull puppy-dog-eyes on Stephen. The wizard shook his head, face sympathetic.

That's how Tony Stark, billionaire genius, ended up teaching the alphabet to the Cloak of Levitation.


	9. Chapter 9

“Come on, Stephen, hurry up!” Tony dragged the tired wizard the moment the monitoring had finished, to the table in their bedroom. Tony pointed to the long side. With a practiced motion, the cloak detached itself from Stephen and grabbed a pencil. Its collar pointed at Tony, the pencil hovering over a pristine white A4 sheet.

Tony’s heart pounded so hard he could barely stand still. He shoved Stephen into a chair, the sorcerer looking like he was dying. No worry, he’d perk up soon enough.

Tony rubbed his hands. “All right cloak, you know how to write now, curtesy of one Tony Stark. Answer well and you can destroy those aliens all you want. Deal?”

The cloak hesitated, like it didn’t fully believe his words, then nodded vigorously.

 _Okay, here it goes._ “What is the purpose of those aliens? Why did one of them take over my brain?”

Tony’s blood pounded in his ears as the cloak began to write. Both he and Stephen leaned over the table to see. There was none of the drowsiness in the sorcerer’s eyes. Stephen squeezed Tony’s hand. Tony gasped at the unexpected feel of it.

The cloak stopped writing.

Across the sheet were four words.

mail femail amail gamail

Tony stared for a moment before his gaze snagged on the second word. “Femail,” he said aloud, “as in female? Then the first one is male. Is that correct?” The cloak nodded vigorously. “And the other two, are they also genders?”

Instead of answering, the cloak drew a… a face… Tony’s face, wha, that thing could draw! over the word mail. Then it drew Stephen’s likeness over the famail. Tony smirked but didn’t comment as whatever the cloak tried to communicate was more important than a snide remark. It proceeded to draw a ball, no, Earth, Asia outlined inside the ball too precisely to be a coincidence. Earth, Tony and Stephen’s portraits were incredibly lifelike. He should’ve gotten the cloak to draw in the first place!

Tony’s eyes narrowed when the cloak drew another planet with three big craters on the same line as the mail/gamail words. Okay, that planet must be having four genders. A bit of a waste, as two were obviously sufficient, but maybe those creatures had a hive mind and the genders were distributing social functions or something. Tony had no idea, it wasn’t important. Until the cloak drew the alien, a realistic rendering of the prawn thing, over the mail. And femail. And amail. Gamail too. Then it drew a big circle over all four words, tying them together.

Tony could barely breathe. Shit, it couldn’t!

As he clutched his temples, trying to fight back panic, the cloak drew a prawn over Tony’s head, and then drew a circle over him and Stephen. Then it looked up, expectant.

Oh no. No no no no no. If it was what Tony thought it was… Tony collapsed into the empty chair; his mind felt like it was literally exploding from the horrible news.

He stared at Stephen, unable to form any words.

Stephen’s gaze was glued to the pictures. “So, these four are a gender group on this planet. Earth only has two, male and female. So the purpose of the alien is to…” His gaze met Tony’s. Realisation dawned in those grey-blue eyes and for once Tony was glad he didn’t have to explain this thinking aloud.

“There must be a mistake,” Stephen continued, looking between the cloak and tracing his own picture. “I’m male. I can’t be a suitable partner if that’s what I think it is for.”

“I’m gay,” Tony deadpanned.

Stephen turned so fast Tony wondered if he got whiplash. “What?”

What was Tony supposed to say to that? “I’m gay, so a woman wouldn’t be a suitable partner for me.” He crossed his arms and kept looking.

Stephen realised what he had said. “I mean,” Stephen began, “I never thought… The way you look at your CEO, Virginia Potts… I thought for sure that you were messing with me. You never acted like…”

“Like what?”

Stephen swallowed. “You know, flirtatious. I’ve worked with gays before and it’s usually very obvious.”

“Well, excuse me for not flaunting my gayness in your face. I have better things to do than act like stupid stereotypes. Staying on your good side seemed like the best thing considering you inflict terrible pain on me simply by existing. I thought it best to _not_ feel up the guy I can’t walk away from.” Stephen had thought Tony was with Pepper? Really? “Pepper and I have been through deep shit together. I love her like the smart-ass responsible sister she is, who keeps me from self-destructing most days.”

Stephen stared at him like he wasn’t comprehending. Maybe he wasn’t. Tony couldn’t come to grips with it himself.

“If its purpose is to find sexual partners, then the way to get rid of it…” Stephen said.

“Is to have sex.” Tony finished.

They glanced at each other, before Stephen looked away and blushed furiously.

What kind of sick fuck would create such a thing? Why did such a thing even exist? But for now, Tony buried those thoughts as he grabbed Stephen’s arm, making the sorcerer look at him. “Your bedroom, or mine?”

“You can’t be serious!” Stephen said.

Tony just looked, letting the words sink in. Stephen was always a little slow on the uptake.

Tony saw the exact moment it finally clicked for Stephen. “You’re serious…”

Stephen’s grey eyes were so open, so expressive, that Tony forgot what he was about to say. _Don’t… don’t look at me like that…_ He wondered if Stephen himself knew what he just did.

“We have our answer.” Tony tapped the drawing. “The alien’s purpose is to attract partners, right?” He directed at the cloak. The thing hesitated, released the pencil and nodded. Tony turned to Stephen. “What would you attract a partner for than sex? Don’t you want to have all your quiet time to yourself again? We’re one fuck away from literally being free again. I’ll even be the girl. Come on, pound me into the sheets and I’ll be gone within the hour.”

Stephen took a step back, then remembered and stopped. “I’m not having sex with you!”

“Why the hell not?” Tony said. “It’d literally end both your and my misery! My pain! It’s such an easy solution, what else could you want?” He paused for breath. “Do it for science!”

Stephen groaned. “You did not just ask me to have sex for science.”

Tony grinned.

Stephen rose a hand. “No.”

“What the hell, Stephen! You aren’t making any sense! Why the hell not? Do you want me to pay you? Beg you? Or do you secretly enjoy watching me in pain each time you walk away?”

“I’m not any of those things! Don’t you dare even suggest, I swore an oath about doing no harm. I want to get rid of that bug too, more than anything.”

“Then why the hell not?”

“Because it doesn’t mean anything!”

Silence fell after the outburst. For once in his life, Tony was speechless.

“Well, yeah,” Tony finally said. “It’s just to appease the bug. Or do you want more?”

Silence hung. Stephen struggled to contain his various emotions, hands folded into fists. Agitation, shyness, fear…all flashed through his eyes one after another. He stood very still, posture tightly controlled.

“Flowers and chocolates and all that?” Tony said. “To be my boyfriend?”

A hurt look crossed Stephen’s face. “I didn’t mean that.”

“Then what did you mean? What could you possibly mean? That you wanted some feelings? For us to… to love each other like in some cheap soap opera? Get real, Stephen. I never thought I’d lecture you of all people. Love, feelings, is all a farce. It’s not love, it’s money. Or bragging rights. Fame. New weapons designs. A share of Stark Industries. Luxury lifestyle. If I was to lose it all tomorrow, no one would give a damn about me. Certainly not the lovers who swore unending love to me in the past.”

“Look, I’m not asking for that kind of commitment—”

“Then what are you asking? I’m a good lay, I’ll make it worth your while—”

Stephen shook his head.

Tony saw red. “The solution is right in front of our noses! What the hell is wrong with you?”

“No, the question is: what the hell is wrong with _you_? Did you even consider what I might think about this?”

“What is there to think? Just bang me already!”

“Or what?” Stephen crossed his arms. “You’re gonna rape me?”

Tony’s hands shook. He buried his hands in his hair, pulling at the roots as he struggled to keep it together. A sound of pure rage and frustration tore from his throat. Why didn’t Stephen see his point? It was the most logical thing to do! There was no other way. Why prolong the experience when they could just end it? Why the hell—

Tony rose his gaze to Stephen’s. He eyed Stephen up and down. He still had his ark reactor, and Stephen wasn’t physically that strong—

He terminated the thought.

Those grey eyes stared back, the intelligent look in them telling Tony that Stephen knew Tony had thought it. Tony lowered his hands, and Stephen balled his into fists, his tall frame going rigid as if preparing for battle.

“No, I’m not gonna rape you,” Tony said. His voice was cold, he barely recognised it. An arctic storm. “You couldn’t have killed the mood further if you tried. I’m just… tremendously disappointed. I thought you understood me a little, but I was clearly wrong.” He didn’t realise how much it stung until he said it. Somehow, Tony wasn’t sure when, he thought they were on the same page. He looked at Stephen now, and wondered what the hell was running through that head of his? It was a simple pow-chicki-wow and done! The sting turned to rage, and Tony wished so hard he could just _leave_ , leave Stephen to rot in his delusional fantasies. “I wish you had never come to me for the disruptor.” Tony didn’t know what was worse, to be stuck to someone stupid or to someone as smart as Stephen only to be betrayed at the last moment. It really fucking irked him. “I can’t believe I actually trusted you to help. That was my mistake. But no more. I’d walk away right now except I fucking can’t.”

Stephen stepped forward, arm outstretched. “I never said—”

Tony slapped his hand away. “Get the fuck away from me. I fucking hate you!” Tony glared with all the intensity he could muster.

Stephen flinched.

Tony’s satisfaction of watching Stephen recoil lasted only a millisecond before pain drove Tony to his knees. He clutched his head, trying to hold back his screams but it was futile. He went on all fours, beating at the floor. Why now? Stephen was within three feet of him. They’ve been screaming into each other’s faces. He didn’t care, let Stephen walk away from him and let Tony die. Clearly Stephen didn’t think Tony deserved saving. That thought lasted only a moment as the stabs intensified and Tony’s lungs seized. He couldn’t breathe. Panic erased all thoughts, and he blindly reached where he thought Stephen was. For a frightening moment, he thought Stephen had really left, left him to die in agony.

His hands grabbed something warm. Stephen, Tony knew without seeing. All he saw was blurry red. He would’ve cried in relief if his eyes weren’t already streaming from the pain. Stephen clutched his hand, yet the pain wasn’t stopping. Why wasn’t it stopping? Tony grabbed blindly at Stephen, trying to pull him as close as possible.

The pain ended.

Tony’s vision returned, and he found himself on top of Stephen’s chest, both of them panting hard. Stephen had one arm wrapped around Tony’s shoulders keeping him in place. Tony clutched Stephen’s hand for dear life, which had gone red, blood smearing pale skin where Tony’s nails had punctured through.

“Sorry,” Tony whispered, letting go of the hand.

Stephen didn’t say anything.

Tony rose to get off him—

And screamed.

God, it hurt so much. Like a lightning strike to the forehead, instant and _everywhere_. Tony clutched at Stephen’s robes, gently this time, panting from the sharp spike. “What the actual fuck?” He said, but the pain took all the fire out of his voice, and he sounded exhausted. “I can’t get up.”

“Just be silent,” Stephen said, one arm coming to wrap gently around Tony’s waist. It was light enough that Tony could throw it off with barely moving, and Tony saw it for the ‘shut up’ gesture that it was. Stephen took deep breaths, as if meditating.

That’s when Tony realised Stephen’s nose was bleeding. His moustache was soaked in it, the right side of his face a splotchy red colour. The deep breaths were in fact, masking the pain.

“I’m sorry,” Tony whispered. “Come on, we have to get an ice pack or that’s gonna bruise bad.”

Stephen turned away the injured cheek. “You’re not.”

“Not what?”

“Not sorry.”

“I never intended to punch you, dumbass.” Carefully, Tony tried to roll onto his side but gasped as the pain returned. He clutched back onto Stephen. “Shit. Why now? Cloak? Why the hell does it keep zapping me?”

Tony looked around, but the cloak was gone.

Smart thing, he’d have fled too if his friends were getting it on.

Tony frowned.

Things didn’t add up. There was no reason for the alien to bring him to his knees just then. They were within three feet. Kind of hard to get it going when he couldn’t rise onto his elbows to reach for the necessary parts.

Hold on.

The thing literally had control over every brain synapse. If it wanted Tony to get it on with Stephen, why didn’t it just give him raging hard-ons? That would’ve sent a clear message, not all this… guessing.

The cloak drew the four sexes, each infected, enclosed in a circle. Him and Stephen in a circle, but only Tony carried the bug…

When exactly did it react?

Tony remembered that moment. The dark satisfaction of seeing Stephen flinch. Of wanting to hurt Stephen, just like Stephen did to him.

Hm…

How was that related to sex, to mating? If all it did was find a suitable partner…

Unless, that wasn’t what it was doing at all.

Tony and Stephen, in a circle. Tony the only one infected…

_Maybe—_

“Stephen, I got a new theory.” Tony didn’t dare move yet.

“Does it involve having sex with me without consulting me first?”

The corner of Tony’s mouth quirked up. “Maybe. But not at this moment, no.”

“Good. I don’t think I can fight with my hands feeling like they’re on fire.”

“Hold tight. I think I figured out what makes this thing tick. I’ll get you a cold compress in a second.”

Stephen just made a wordless noise of assent.

“Here it goes,” Tony whispered.

He looked at Stephen’s face that he could see, the sharp curve of his cheekbone, the paleness of his skin, the sculpted eyebrow—did Stephen wax his eyebrows? Tony hadn’t seen him do it so far—to Stephen’s black hair peppered grey at the temples—the contrast was striking, really—to the taut line of his neck. Stephen had a beautiful neck, which was how he pulled off the cloak’s standing collar so well. Couldn’t do it with a short neck, could he? Tony caressed the smooth skin with his gaze. The longer he looked, the more he wanted— He never got to properly check—

Tony rose his hand and gently traced a line from Stephen’s neck to just beneath Stephen’s ear, where he gently cupped Stephen’s face. Stephen’s skin there felt almost too hot to touch, pulse hammering beneath Tony’s fingertips. Stephen shuddered, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, but he didn’t fight Tony off. Tony traced the line back down to where Stephen’s pale skin disappeared beneath the robe’s collar. Tony wondered what Stephen looked like under there. It was a silly wish since Tony saw Stephen naked on a regular basis, but right then, the sight was too damn titillating. Like a perfectly wrapped gift. You had to tear the paper to reach the offering inside. Stephen’s neck looked so strong yet so vulnerable…

Tony rose slowly, and successfully rolled off Stephen. Stephen turned, intense grey eyes narrowed at him. “Was your experiment successful?”

Tony ignored the sarcasm in the tone. Instead he focused on Stephen’s eyes, and finally allowed himself to admit they were gorgeous. If there was one feature he liked above all others, it was those striking, intelligent greys. Like the clearest, rarest vibranium.

Tony sat up. No pain.

No, Tony didn’t hate Stephen. He still didn’t understand _why_ Stephen was so hung up about making a big deal out of it, but… the man was intelligent. Witty. Kind. Not a word he’d have associated with Stephen, but… he tried to make Tony comfortable, setting him a rocking chair—a rocking chair!—in the monitoring room while Stephen worked. Apparently, a _predictable_ repetitive motion was okay. Stephen was patient. Focused. _Insightful_. How many hours had they spent together, Tony buried in his blueprints while Stephen was reading an arm’s length away, only for Stephen to suddenly pipe up a better way to do something? Not whining for attention was so sexy.

Not to mention the spoon-feeding when Tony’s arms were busted.

Tony stood. Their gazes met and Tony offered Stephen his hand. Stephen took it, and Tony hauled him up. Stephen swayed. Tony steadied him by the shoulders.

“So, what makes the prawn bite?” Stephen asked. There was no harshness in his words this time.

“You wouldn’t believe it,” Tony said.

“That depends on what it is.”

Tony shook his head. It was ridiculous. Impossible. But the alien was in his brain, and there were chemicals that could be tracked when someone was…

Tony’s gaze caught Stephen’s.

In love.

That’s what the bug was for.

That’s why the cloak drew them in a circle. Making four people fall in love with each other on that other planet must be hard as hell. The bug was a painful shortcut.

The alien wasn’t about sex at all. He couldn’t fathom why it had picked Stephen.

Except Tony could sort of see why.

Stephen was smart.

He was witty and funny when he wanted to be.

He didn’t take shit. Including Tony’s shit.

They butted heads all the time, which was something, considering most people would’ve found him too tiresome. Stephen could’ve ignored him, and he did sometimes when he was fed up, but he didn’t ignore Tony ad infinitum.

Stephen cared about his duties as a sorcerer, same as Tony about inventing, and didn’t give a crap about anything else. Tony respected that.

And surprisingly, they didn’t get into each other’s way, all things considered.

And lastly…

Stephen was gorgeous. Those sharp, intelligent eyes. His slim, streamlined body. How such a man remained single was beyond Tony.

If the only way out was to fall for Stephen, and Tony was pretty sure the bug wouldn’t let him get away with a crush… No, he had a feeling it wouldn’t let go unless it was the real deal…

So, he had to make Stephen fall in love with him _first_.

It was too terrifying otherwise. He was already so much at Stephen’s mercy, but to surrender completely like that…

Tony wasn’t certain he could do it. Stephen was hot, sure, and witty, and sometimes Tony even enjoyed his company—okay, _more_ than sometimes—but to fall in love…

It was a lost cause.

It was inevitable.

Fuck.

He could fool Stephen, but there was no fooling the thing in his head. It wouldn’t let him go until he was deeply in love.

_Why did it have to be me?_

“I have to be the one to fuck you,” Tony lied. “The cloak drew you as the girl, remember?”

Stephen frowned but didn’t say anything. The question ‘how do you know?’ was plain on his face.

“I thought horny thoughts about you and it let me go.”

Stephen huffed and rolled his eyes. “Figures.”

Tony had to buy himself time to work Stephen properly. He couldn’t let Stephen deduce the truth. “I just wanna know one thing, before we proceed any further.” Stephen’s attention turned to him at the seriousness of his voice. “Do I have a chance? If you’re straight, or I totally repulse you or something, just tell me now. We’ll save each other wasted effort and time if you know it’s never gonna happen.”

Stephen sighed. “Of course you had to ask in such a direct manner.”

“I thought you’d like it direct,” Tony said. “Or do you want to play games?”

“No, you’re right, I’d rather you tell me directly. I just… this is a lot to consider, okay?”

“What’s there to consider? Are you gay or not? Do I have a chance or not?”

“Look, I just found out about this today. Let me get used to the idea.”

Tony resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “At least answer me the first one. Tits or balls? Which one, Strange?”

“It’s not that simple.”

Tony threw up his arms. “What do you mean, not simple? That stuff is hardwired in the brain. Then what are you attracted to?”

“Intelligence,” Stephen said immediately.

Tony stared at him. And stared. He rose a hand and slowly pointed at himself. He rose his eyebrows, as in, _Are you shitting me?_

Stephen waved a hand distractedly. “Yes, you’re intelligent, but you’re also _annoying_. It outweighs the charm.”

“What kind of orientation is that?”

“I don’t care what gender they are. If they can hold my conversation and attention, they’re immensely attractive.”

Well, this was gonna be easier than he thought! It seemed all he had to do was shut up and Stephen would be all over him.

“Mark my words, Stephen, you’re gonna take off you pants for me, and you’re gonna do it because you want to. Because I’m gonna woo you with my amazing intelligence, the greatest mind this world has ever known. You’re gonna fall for me so hard, you wouldn’t know what hit you.”

Stephen rolled his eyes, but the corners of his lips quirked into a smile. “As long as you promise not to rape me.”

“Please don’t remind me,” Tony said. “But yeah, no raping or cajoling. I’m still stuck to you, but I won’t push.” Stephen was looking at him with those deep grey eyes, looking for the truth in his words. “I promise.”

Silence hang. Stephen didn’t move, and Tony felt a little uncomfortable after the weight of his confession. “We good?” Tony asked.

“You’re not repulsive,” Stephen said.

“Excuse me? Just not repulsive? I’ll have you know how many people would sell an arm and a leg to bed me.”

A corner of Stephen’s mouth lifted up again. “Obviously they’ve never been in a car accident. The price of my arms is pretty steep.” A sparkle appeared in those lovely grey eyes.

Was Stephen… flirting with him? Holy crap, he was. Tony grinned, feeling hopeful for the first time in months. “Luckily I happen to know a billionaire.”

Stephen wasn’t completely closed off to the idea. Tony could make Stephen fall in love with him. “Let’s get you fixed up.”


	10. Chapter 10

Next day, Tony booked some flowers to be delivered for Stephen. Start something small, to show he was serious, but not so much as to freak Stephen out. Stephen needed time to process things; he'd probably explode if Tony subjected him to the full force of his charm.

Turned out that doing romantic things for your lover, cuz that's who Stephen would soon become—was hard when you were tied to their hip. Tony had to be sneaky.

Stephen narrowed his eyes suspiciously when an acolyte handed him roses. Tony whistled at the ceiling. "They're lovely but that was utterly unnecessary." Stephen fetched a clear vase from a drawer in the hallway, filled it with water and looked around their overflowing desk, trying to find a safe spot to put it.

Tony struggled to not hang his head. He supposed the flowers weren't necessary, but surely the gesture counted for something? It wasn’t all bad, right?

Stephen settled the flowers on the edge side of the invisible line dividing the desk into Tony’s half and Stephen’s. Stephen was about to draw back but paused, hands tracing the table. He seemed relaxed but unusually vacant as he gazed at the roses. The phrase ‘the light is on but nobody’s home’ came to Tony’s mind. Tony bit his lip. He didn’t expect his flowers to… break Stephen or something.

“You okay there?” Tony asked.

Stephen snapped out of it, literally, his head flying back as if someone had punched him. “What?” Incoherent grey eyes stared at Tony.

With Stephen’s attention solely on him, Tony felt like hiding under the table for distracting him. There was nothing wrong with Stephen spacing out when they were safe. Tony wondered how many people got to see Stephen like that, when Stephen was completely unprepared. Tony could’ve kissed him and Stephen wouldn’t have noticed. Or noticed and freaked out like a teenage girl. Stephen was weird that way, but it was an okay weird. However, something about this time, like Stephen was finally figuring out Tony was bullshitting him to save his own life— _look who’s making puns now—_ Tony _had_ to act.

“You’re scaring me, Doc,” Tony said. “You stared at the flowers like they wanted to murder you or something. You got any allergies I should be aware of?” Nice save!

Stephen frowned like he didn’t believe him. Ugh. Tony kept a straight face. He’d burn in hell if Stephen saw through him.

“I don’t have any allergies.” Stephen finally moved away from the table. He paused, and Tony nearly walked into his back. "I was just thinking," Stephen began, "that this is the first time someone gave me flowers that wasn't for saving someone's life or after a conference presentation. I’m not trying to discourage you. The flowers _are_ lovely. It’s just… I feel like I haven't earned them."

Jeez, what kind of repressed life had Stephen been living? "So, what you're saying is that you don't know how to graciously accept when someone appreciates you for _you_?"

Stephen turned around, a thoughtful frown on his face. For a while nothing happened, until a blush rose on Stephen's cheeks. "Yeah," he finally said.

Tony shook his head, smiling. "I thought you hated them." Stephen blushing was doing something strange to him, bad puns included. Tony wanted to see that bashful awkwardness every day, as often as he could. "Wait until you see what I'll send you tomorrow."

Stephen rose his hands. "Please, Tony, no more gifts. I appreciate it but I'd rather those things go to someone who really needs them." Ah, he was still blushing. "I wouldn't know where to put them."

Tony laughed. This shy Stephen was a new experience. Tony stepped closer, so they were almost hips to hips. Tony played with the tassels on Stephen's belt. "I'd like to show you a special kind of appreciation. With your full consent, of course."

Stephen touched Tony's elbow, gently pulling the tassels from Tony's grip. "I'll think about it," Stephen said.

Something in the way Stephen's face became guarded, that Tony couldn't let Stephen continue to think this way. Words welled up in Tony's chest that he simply had to say. "Stephen, about yesterday…"

Stephen's posture went rigid. His shoulders closed in, as if preparing for a blow.

Tony deserved that one, yet it still hurt to see Stephen this way. Like he expected Tony to hurt him. Maybe Tony should've kept his mouth shut. Too late now. "When we found the cure, after _months_ of dead-ends, I got so excited that I didn't think of your well-being, or what you might have to say. My anger was… unwarranted. You had every right to refuse, especially with the way I spoke to you. I'm…disgusted with myself for how I've acted. I'd never--" Tony couldn't say the words or even joke about it. "I can't ask you to forget, but…can we start over?"

To Tony's surprise, Stephen's shoulders dropped. Stephen's wrinkles unfurled and he looked so relieved like the jury had acquitted him of false crimes. "Disgust is a very strong word," Stephen said, rubbing the tension lines from his forehead. "Everyone makes mistakes. I don't think neither of us expected the day to turn out like it had." He paused. "I wouldn't like to be in pain or stuck with an alien, either. I hope you don't hate yourself or feel disgust for yourself. I feel better about it."

"I wish you didn't have to see me like that," Tony said. He should've learned from his fuck-ups by now, right? "You didn't deserve the words I said. I intend to keep my promise. It won't happen again."

Stephen smiled faintly, just a pull of the lips. "I forgive you."

The swell of emotion nearly brought Tony to his knees. _How could you do that? How could you forgive me so easily?_ But Stephen’s grey gaze remained steady, and at that moment Tony knew Stephen wasn’t joking or pulling his leg. “Maybe you shouldn’t,” Tony said.

Stephen crossed his arms. “It’s almost like you don’t know how to graciously accept when someone forgives you,” Stephen said.

Oh no. Stephen did _not_ just use Tony’s words against him. “Don’t you start getting smart with me. We might just make the universe implode from our combined awesomeness.” But he was crumbling inside. Stephen’s comment stung far more than it should.

Stephen chuckled. “You know, with your technology and my magic that could turn out true, but that’s not why I want to get smart with you. Or more like, my comment came out sardonic when I didn’t mean it to. I really think... that you can use some forgiveness work. Me forgiving you means nothing unless you allow yourself to experience it.”

Just like that, Stephen said it a second time. Tony clutched a hand on his shirt, because it felt dangerously tight around the arc reactor, as if the nanite housing was getting pushed out of his chest. He struggled to breathe, and yet each pain-filled lungful was liberating. Cleansing. “Thank you.”

Stephen’s grey eyes softened. “You are welcome.”

 

***

 

“Hey, can we go to my place? I had a delivery,” Tony said.

Stephen set his fork down and wiped his lips with a napkin. “Malibu?”

“Yes. Anywhere is fine but the package is in the entryway.”

They retrieved Tony’s final experiment with no issues.

“What is that?” Stephen asked, watching Tony pull a single strip of unmarked pills out of the cardboard box. "Is that safe?"

"Probably not."

"I'm not having you try experimental medicine and die on my hands!" Stephen said.

“It’s not experimental medicine. In fact, it’s the oldest medicine there is. If you feel shit, this stuff makes you better.”

Stephen was silent. “You don’t have to do this, Tony,” Stephen said.

Stephen probably thought Tony reached his limit or something, but that wasn’t the case. It was all for science.

“Sorry doc, you can’t stop me this time.” Before Stephen could speak further, Tony popped a pill and dry-swallowed. “Would it help if we go to my medical station where you and Friday can supervise?"

A ‘why are you doing this?’ look came to Stephen’s face. He looked almost in pain. Tony had an urge to hide when he realised this anguish… was for Tony doing bad things to himself.

 _I’m sorry_ , Tony thought, even though he knew he wouldn’t have changed his decision for Stephen. This was something he had to do.

Stephen closed his eyes and nodded.

They arrived at Tony's medical wing and Stephen watched him silently as Tony hooked himself to machines.

"What are you drugging yourself with?" Stephen asked.

"MDMA.”

Stephen froze.

Tony snorted. Stephen’s stunned face was priceless.

“I would laugh too except I don’t think you’re joking,” Stephen said, his voice taking on an unusual quality. “You know all of its effects, right? You have a serious heart condition.”

Tony’s laugher died down. He hated that tone. “Jeez, stop ruining my high. I don’t intend to overdose myself to heart failure. I know what I’m doing.”

Stephen didn’t say anything immediately. “You didn’t deem this important enough to tell me?”

Tony bit his lip. That was true. He knew Stephen would've tried to talk him out of it. But he couldn’t explain what he was trying to emulate. Or why.

“You wanna join? I have plenty to spare.”

The dubious look on Stephen’s face was worth it. “While that offer is utterly untempting already, I can’t afford to be out of my mind when a mystical threat comes.”

Tony knew that already, which was why he knew Stephen would've said no. “I promise to engage the armour only in self-defence if we’re called out,” Tony said. “There’s never a good time to do this test.”

“I could’ve arranged something.”

It was a lie. Tony knew Stephen could have, but he wouldn’t have. He didn’t want to take a day off for his own illness; he wouldn’t have done it for Tony getting high. “You might wanna pull up a chair, Doc. This might take a while.”

Stephen sighed and began to check Tony’s medical set up. “Just don’t kill yourself.”

It was as good an agreement as he was going to get. “I’ll try not to.”

 

***

 

“It’s talking to me, Stephen,” Tony said. He felt great, alive, buzzing with energy. He was convinced he could do an entire tap dance for Stephen, if only Stephen would let him get up from the bed. Tony didn't mean to topple Stephen's books to the floor like a stack of dominoes. Couldn’t Stephen appreciate that each book's spine played a different note? It wasn't Tony's fault the books weren't stacked securely enough. “Like, it never actually talked to me before.”

“Tony, you’re high out of your mind. If it never talked to you, I doubt it’s talking to you now.”

After a few hours monitoring his heart, Stephen had begrudgingly agreed that Tony was unlikely to drop dead anymore, and they’ve since moved to their bedroom.

Stephen’s room was incredible. Tony ran his hand through the white cotton sheets. It was like the sheets were a part of him, the sheets and he were one. So was Stephen. One and the same. He wondered if that’s why Stephen fought so hard protecting the universe. Because the universe and him were one.

Tony needed some water. His throat was parched.

"We're getting up in five hours," Stephen said. “Try to relax."

Tony grabbed Stephen’s arm. “Stephen, you don’t understand. It sent me these vague images or feelings. But now… I think I get it. It’s like, totally in love with me. Not like sexually, but like… like…”

Stephen sighed.

“You’re so cute when you sigh.”

A lovely pink colour dusted Stephen’s cheeks. “I shouldn’t have let you do that. What if you’ve overdosed? Did your experiment even accomplish anything?”

Tony leaned forward but Stephen cupped his face before Tony could kiss him.

“Ask it what its purpose is,” Stephen said.

Tony watched Stephen’s lips. They sang to him like sirens. Begged to be kissed. Tony traced his thumb over them, parting them slightly. Mmm, beautiful.

“Tony?”

“Yes, sexy desirable Stephen?”

The pink darkened to a beautiful rouge. “I said ask it what it’s purpose is. What's it trying to accomplish?”

Tony traced Stephen’s cheek with his fingers. He felt the pink through his fingertips. "Anything for you."

The focused his restlessness on the bug. It wasn't hard. The thing was like an empty sponge, soaking up whatever he felt.  It made perfect sense, they functioned in unison. The question was, _what are you restless about?_

Something compelled Tony to look into Stephen's eyes. Those measured grey watched back curiously, face a little guarded, while his hands held Tony calmly. A feeling of rightness, of _glory_ , washed over Tony. He knew, with his whole being, _I want you and your chosen partner to be happy._

Tony burrowed his face into Stephen's shoulder and moaned. God, bug's vision for them felt so good.

“Stephen, you gotta hear this," Tony said, as the rapturous feeling simmered down. "It's like… liquified rightness. Like we're married, but for years and years and it's just us, distilled to our purest forms. Hey, you said chosen. I mean Stephen’s hot. Smoking hot with a double t. Wait, is he alien hot too? Is that why…? I don't know how I feel about that."

Stephen covered his face. Tony never saw him this red before. He hoped Stephen wasn’t getting sick again.

_I picked him because he is the one you like the most._

“Really? I thought I liked Rhodey better,” Tony mused out loud. He loved Rhodey, but there was a reason he couldn’t remember, why he couldn’t pursue a relationship with him. Something about how much they’ve been through. “I guess you’re right. Stephen was a bit of a mystery at the time, wasn't he? Still is.” He smiled at Stephen.

The bug didn’t answer.

Stephen looked like he was praying.

“Where did you come from?” Tony asked the bug. Home. Safety. _Where?_

_Grey fog._

“Who made you?” Tinkering in his workshop. _Creation_.

_Grey fog._

“How’d you distribute a four-gender pairing?” Tony asked. “Everyone is in pain if one walked away?” He pictured four ponies chasing each other. He had no fear; the thing would understand.

Strong disagreement on his image. Only one would hurt if one left. _I would link only two of the four required partners._

“Did you hear that Stephen? The four gender group is a closed loop. That way everyone is cared for by at least one member. Member. Heh.”

The urge to hug Stephen was overwhelming. He pulled Stephen into his arms and took a deep breath of his hair.

“You promised not to jump me,” Stephen said.

That hardly seemed to matter. Tony rose on one arm, while he ran the other hand over Stephen’s chest appreciatively. He liked the feel of Stephen’s compact muscles before Stephen pulled Tony’s wrist off his chest. Couldn’t Stephen feel this connection? That they belonged together. That this whole room, the bed, that desk, the chair, all belonged together, that they were the room, and the room was them, all interconnected and One. How lucky they were to exist in this space and time, and be part of each other? Couldn’t Stephen feel that this moment right now was a miracle?

He squeezed Stephen closer, wanting their bodies to melt, to connect physically on that same level. He pressed his ear to Stephen’s chest. He heard Stephen’s heartbeat, and that made him ridiculously happy. They shared the same heart beat. They were One. “I wish I could tell you how much I love you right now. I could comb the entire dictionary and not a single word would come close. You and I are like…everything. Everything there is.” He breathed in Stephen's scent, musk and sandalwood. “Can’t get enough of you.”

Stephen wrapped his arms around him and Tony would purr if he could. It felt so right, laying in Stephen’s arms like this. It was so exquisite to be together, him atop Stephen’s chest. Tony sighed in contentment. Life was really really awesome.

 

***

 

Life was really really shit.

“Come on Tony, get out of bed.” Stephen pulled the covers off him.

Tony made a non-intelligible noise meaning no. He put a pillow over his head. He just wanted to stay in bed all day and cry his eyes out. Watch every sad movie ever made. Actually he better not, he wasn’t sure it wouldn’t push him over the edge. He knew himself and drugs enough to know his psyche was shot. “Leave me alone.”

Stephen tugged him to follow him to the bathroom for their morning routine and Tony had no choice but let himself be dragged. Tony couldn’t rise his eyes. The urge to cry was near overwhelming.

“You’ll be all right,” Stephen said. “Just focus on one thing at a time.” Stephen passed him the toothpaste, sounding chipper as ever.

“Did the alien come out?” Tony checked his own face in the mirror. Bloodshot eyes and a miserable look but otherwise he appeared unchanged.

Stephen shook his head.

“Damn it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back, and welcome to the new version. I tried my best with what time and inspiration I had. I’ve been in a bit of a creative slump this last 2 weeks. However I still want to post for you guys. Let me know how I’m going. I can always edit chapters later :)
> 
> I wish you all a wonderful week ahead! Hugs! <3


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